1.12.11

If a form of prayer can be bodily peace, as though a ruffled field, that’s what I’d pray and be right now.

As though God takes a breathe and I’m receiving it, gladly and with celebration.

I can’t write a poem about it, but I can feel it.

Like a wave that breaks its teeth on a sea rock and never whistles again but becomes another body, into the rock that destroyed her.

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