a poem by Ron Jones
I have long felt
deep in my bones
that there is something to figure out
about being human.
Something I need to figure out
something I can figure out
about getting better
at being human.
Not better than anybody else
better than my former self.
Better than the person I was a year ago
a month ago
yesterday.
Better than the person I was
a moment ago
when I snapped at you.
Or the countless other times
I fell down on the path
of striving to be
the better angel of my nature.
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