Poetry, Birth, and/or Healing

A poetry prof once suggested juxtaposing words in different ways to create sense-images. The one that stays with me is "graffiti surfs the river's spine," about the sensation of riding bikes past graffiti covered walls along the concrete banks of the San Gabriel river in L.A.

Anyways, via chicken fried life, here is a beautifully inadvertent (or not?) jem about birth, life, and healing at a blog called Bruan's World:

"Why is it that in life we can't leave well enough alone? Why must we always interfere with life's healing process? People are addicted to picking at wombs, both physically and emotionally. We can't seem to let things heal naturally. When damage is done we tend to want to interfere, thinking we can change the situation on our own. Most times the best thing to do is to let time heal our wombs. We can't always be interfering in the problems of life. Let time heal your wombs."

Especially appropriate considering the president is picking a new supreme court justice....

[update 20 Jul: chickenlittle tells me the original post has already been updated, darn. Well, the original poetry will live on here. No offense intended, Bruan, sometimes you make a mistake and things come out different, but not really wrong.]