Friday, November 9, 2012

postpartum

There is a time and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die

one year ago, these words meant nothing to me

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when my dad passed away, I felt some pressure / saw a need for me to step up and take certain matters into my own hands - but then I got carried away and started taking things that weren't mine to take. These unnecessary burdens made me a miserable person - a resentful tenant who distrusts his housemates to do the dishes - but once I gave them back, I found some peace

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a clanging cymbal, a resounding gong
He quiets the storm; the tempest is gone

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