Behold the magic.
Heaven and earth become one.
Old friends meet again.
How does it work?
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More stories from Jacqueline Ortiz and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comfort was hard to feel, but I became able to perceive each moment with pure love and enjoyment once I was emotionally healed. Comfort is the peace I feel when I hear my son is finding his way and doing okay from the choices he’s made. Comfort is a song that accompanies me when the quiet can sometimes feel lonely. Comfort is knowing I am the creator of my life and only I can choose what’s right. Comfort is finding a place I can finally call home after spending years running from everyone I’ve ever known. Comfort is a pillow to rest my head after working long hours. I’m ready for bed. Comfort is sharing how I feel without the fear of judgment I used to dread from thoughts inside my head. All these comforts bring me joy and make me feel so grateful that I want to rejoice.
By Jacqueline Ortiz3 years ago in Poets
That first night: the laughter, the music, the love The first date: the music, the poetry, the moon The road trip through a hurricane, my yoga pants ruined by rain, the Violent Femmes, and that morning at the Hirshorn, the Rodin
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I have been trying not to get totally consumed by the Winter Olympic Games from Italy. They seem to be televised almost 24 hours a day. If it is not live, then it is a replay.
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