The Eyes of Birds

I wrote this poem in the late 1980s or early 1990s after Marianne and I saw the French film Les Yeux Des Oiseaux about political prisoners in South America. The film made a tremendous impact on me, and I am thinking of it now as I seek discernment on the way forward in my life. I am not a social activist. What am I called to do as I seek to be there for my close friends while also caring about the whole world?

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