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I pray
there is a place
beyond pain
where we will rise
in purity
above the cedars.

look down
our hearts have claimed
a rock ledge
to escape the rain,
a cathedral
among ancient pines.

stories
your grandma told
of a past
when buffalo roamed —
we were there
using different names.

  

  

Sample  my books for free — proceeds feed the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
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Podcasts: http://buff.ly/1Pxlf9p
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