All around town,
balconies drip plant pot water
into the street –
forming puddles where,
for weeks,
we have had no rain.

Passing underneath,
I get caught on the head:
a blessing from the sky.
Which helps me later,
when I am blessed again:
only this time my benefactor can fly. 

by Rebecca L. Atherton

 
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To be healed is having an awareness that you were never broken

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