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I trudge alone.

I trudge alone,
Though it doesn’t seem so,
From the day I left her house of warmth
Amidst tears and fervent protestations
I was shoved out into this cold bitter path
In which i trudge alone.
Onward i am forced
Towards the cul-de-sac that i hope
That i hope is warm as her house of warmth
I cant stop even when i’m weary and laden
Laden with these stones that I pick along the path
Or that i am given by faceless companions
Who trudge alongside even tho in truth
I trudge alone.
Like Lot’s wife I can’t look back
I must bend to the wind pummeling me with great gusts
Even it hands me its stones and debri
And in the trees I hear wheezing laughter
Of caring beloveds who throw rocks that I have to carry
As I trudge alone
Sometimes i can’t wait to get there the end of this windy hilly path
Other times I want to turn back or find a meadow where I’d sleep and whistle at clouds
This time, I cant wait to get there and put down these stones and rocks and debri
So I trudge along,

I am first an foremost a writer who cares deeply about the world. I enjoy stories - especially history for its rich tapestry of stories of people's lives interwoven intricately in failures and victories. I care so deeply about the world that I also spend much of my time and energy trying to make it better in some way.

Check out my book, Living Memories on Amazon

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