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HOME: Wherever I May Roam

The Walking Wounded

By Teev Handal

In the chill Autumn air
Trees stand nude
Nothing left to hide
Life imitating the flawed art
Of American Politics
Bearing the good and the ugly
At the end of one road
And the beginning of another

Shell shocked voters
Dancing, staggering
In rapture and pain
All deeply wounded
From captivity and battle
For the moment
Ignoring their own blood
Ignoring the blood of others

Selfishness clawing at all
But there is no proper corner
In which to lick those wounds
They must be viewed, shared
Probed by anyone/everyone
Stigmata of citizenship
Holes in the spirit
That are proof of life

Sides taken must melt
Removed from behind
The falling walls
That divide one another
In order to unite
Love thy neighbor
As you love yourself
Golden rule of our healing

Writer and photographer since age 7, I took it pro when I turned 21, freelancing for newspapers and magazines internationally. Now, I'm shifting gears looking for new adventures, both personally and professionally - the two have, frequently, been synonymous. A writer must adapt to the tsunami of technology and information in this brave new world. I'm game. R

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