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He’s standing by the doors as we cross over the bridge in the morning’s clear light. He’s wiry and unshaven. He looks at me just a beat too long. Then his gaze drifts back to his girlfriend, her back is to me. She tugs a hank of her long dark hair. He shrugs, and raises a flat hand to the level of her chin. He wants to change her. She shakes her head. They’ve been holding hands but now he drops hers and turns back to the view of the wide river. She keeps looking at him as he rests his temple on the glass and watches the blue girders of the bridge flash by. She puts her fingers on his chest, and getting no response she settles back. He looks at me again, his eyes say: it would be different if it was you. But he is wrong. Who…
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Thanks to Coyopa, for dusting us off a bit. I can’t read this without feeling the feels.
I’m delighted to say that this poem is now available to buy in book form, with amazing illustrations by Rima Staines. There’s another of the illustrations at the bottom of this post. It’s printed on 100% recycled paper in the UK by a worker’s co-op. Do take a look – it’s a beautiful, pocket-size book and only costs £7.50 + p&p!
You can buy it direct from us at the Hedgespoken Press website:
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Several times in the last few weeks I have wondered what I do. I ask myself whether I am accomplishing enough and then try to figure out what “enough” might be.
Taking time to ask the right questions is important. Slowly reason is emerging from the mound of files and books, notepads, folders, to-do lists and radically-overpinned noticeboard that I call my “work” although I know it’s much more than that.
I have clarified these 3 things:
I help lawyers awaken to the possibility that their work can be about healing conflict.
I help lawyers re-connect with why they were drawn to the legal profession in the first place.
I help lawyers find new ways to bring their heads and their hearts to their legal practice.
I’ve worked out that my mission right now is really: to keep those lawyers, who have had a shift of consciousness, in the profession.
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This kid is as rad as my own. And that’s saying a lot!
I was expelled from school in 9th grade, and I’m currently 19 years old with no plans on ‘finishing’ my education (as if education ever ends). I say this with pride, because too often, people dismiss academic-underachievers as “lazy,” and any attempt to explain our side is labelled an excuse. I feel a need to show why it’s rarely that simple for the kids who leave school. I used to be a top student, the kind that got praised by teachers, friends, and family alike. For me to leave that behind, it had to take something special. Through the following moments, I will share how I went from a parent’s dream child, to a delinquent with a reticent family.
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