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In My Cocoon

Suspended, cradled in my hammock, momentarily back in the safety of my mother’s womb, I let my glasses fall to the ground and look up at the illuminated blur above me. Manoa blows a kiss, a gentle breeze that dances through the branches and whispers to the leaves as they fall softly on my face and on the grass below me. I am blind, but the beauty I feel in my heart is clear. It feels good to see again.

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