Dedicated to those doing “the work”…

We are not individuals
We are a murmuration of beings
Locked in choreographed Karma
I am my mother’s trauma
I am my father’s tresspasses
It is their tears I cry
It is their wounds I feel
My ancestors have not died
They have moved to the back
Of the flock
And it is my turn
To heal us/free us
From Karmic suffering
Or it gets passed on
To the next generation
And the next…
The buck stops here.

Murmuration of Starlings
Photographer unk

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