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Affectionately calling my soul’s shadow back to me, dearly beloved, the war of love, is not the battle of breads of those who have no crumbs,
but, the war of love is softly singing every note wrong, apologizing when you can’t hear the melody of justice,
the war of love, is softly sitting at the edge of life, showing up for that last ride on the merry go round, even when you know love may never make it home,
you pray love will carry love home, & you pray, that your love, will be enough… ~poet Krissy Mosley©2023
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I’ve struggled to write this for quite a while. It’s probably why, in my dreams, something seems to take the power of my voice. So much so , I find myself, clenching my throat, clawing at the nape of my neck, finding my voice,
To be continued….
