The only world is neither unjust nor just / but round as an apple and we are made of it / to wonder, to savor and struggle and hurt, / to think, to try to build justice as the beaver / builds her dam, to weather the seasons, / the random bolts of nuisance and disaster, to love / what we can and endure in light and darkness.
Marge Piercy, 'The Seduction Of Anticipated Pain'
Tumbles
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