…been hard today:
qualifying truth,
turning ritual into sacrament.
thank god -
for the dry, cool hands stay
on my forehead;
behind and before.
Grace (I’m assured),
like water,
runs down deep
and seeps into unseen reservoirs.
I take comfort
in that, in spite of
ordinary moon shine,
worlds still form.
big-girl expectations always
ruin daylight;
colored chalk and concrete
rub my knuckles red.
heavy tastes of memory
will drug me happily
into sleep tonight…
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