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In the gray morning

In the gray morning –
still –
beneath the earth,
beneath the moving waters,
a voice, a heartbeat stirs.

The ancient stirs, also:
breathes its life into us,
those of us who walk here.

Beneath the chatter of our bitter minds
something stirs:

the Heartbeat of it all.

  • poem by Mary Elyn Bahlert, 5/2025, at The Ridges

Photo credit to Mary Elyn Bahlert

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