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Broken cup

 

Amid the shards lie neglect and fact.

sweeping up the scattered pieces we 

find positive truths belying oft time random

thoughts reflecting  aspects we accept as

life, disability and death 

 

Stepping gingerly around in this P C world

we push aside anything and everyone who

dab away any spillage from broken cups.

we cannot be seen to find normality in imperfection.

Nor allow ourselves to accept unconformity 

 

We've got blind people, physical and mentally

Disabled people, but like the broken cup we

scowl and blame God, Easy to do don't have 

to accept it was choice or accident we end

with bits, that can or maybe not be put together.

 

Though one fact remains, a cup is a cup and 

whole or broken it remains a part of us. 

Let's take the shards and the scattered pieces, hold

them up for all to see and ask how can we not

just take them into our hearts carefully rapt

 

Inspired by Claire Cunningham's dance

Guide Gods

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



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