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By: Barbara P. (gotchagal) - ,   + 19 more  
Date Submitted: 5/7/2010
Last Updated: 5/7/2010
Genre: Literature & Fiction » Poetry
Words: 115

  Friends seek me out when they are suffering,
knowing I have been a life-mate to pain.
"You understand," they tell me, "You identify."

The weekend-wounded, Monday morning martyrs
all find their way to my door,
come to me with their sad stories,
expecting me to empathize.
"You know where we're at," they insist,
"You've been there."

They're right;
I can find my way blindfolded.
In fact, I often have.
Just like them, I have backed myself
into endless corners,
raced recklessly to impale myself
on blood-seeking daggers,
but no more!

You see, I have gotten myself
a more detailed map,
sharpened my sense of direction,
and have a better idea of
where I'm coming from.

I've been there, but I've outgrown the place, finally,
and now this time
I want to go somewhere else.

Barbara (Gregory) Pearlman

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Barbara P. (gotchagal) - ,

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Susan B. (blueberrylady) - 7/3/2010 2:31 PM ET
Great! Loved it.
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