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I’m finding myself in hidden places
in foods I swore I hated
in places I swore I’ve been
perhaps in a past life
I could’ve been them all.

I think of each time I’ve grown
when I’ve nurtured myself from seed alone
tended to leaves that withered
waiting for them to grow back, stronger
I’ve been told that I overprune
that I’m quick to discard
failure as incurable

Perhaps one day I’ll learn
growth from grief
and leave the ugly parts alone.

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