Poetry…he knew…

Poetry…he knew…

These past few weeks the excitement, stress, worry over my book has segued into stress, worry and lament for Palestine. Some moments I can hardly negotiate myself so used to the total absorption in my artistic world as I am, with the hard realities of the present world so much in glaring urgent evidence.

This morning I reached for one of my books of poetry by Pablo Neruda and found this poem…

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