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STRANGER IN A NEW PALE GREEN

Once in the meadow of ignorance, Thick with lush grass,

I could lie down and draw it over me

Without feeling carpeted by guilt.

Then they kept insisting I must have knowledge,

So that I might know my guilt.

I was sent into the meadow to labor,

Dig out the grass and plant their seeds;

It is no longer my meadow,

I am a stranger in a new pale green.

J. Lorna Strayer

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