Rebirth | Heath Brougher
He wants to undo himself.
Start again.
Become unborn.
And even if there were words to describe such a thing–
he doesn’t believe in words.
Sometimes I question the difference
between being lost and being found.
rebirth poems
Presence | Fotoula Reynolds
Laid aside like a dress upon a chair
Dust rests for a hundred heart-years
Blinded, she lost faces for ever
But there is wisdom in women
A kind and omnipotent force
She is now seen in high places
Her smile lives among the stars
Astonishingly, green leaves are
Found in the flowing of her dress