your crippled walk
speaks to me in its wispy shuffle
the nature of time seems not
unkind today
as we all propel ourselves,
so wounded,
in whatever way we can
toward our longed for
resurrections, toward
what we have coming,
what we have coming,
our own
resurrections,
in water, and fire,
in mud,
in stone.
1 comment:
I really love your writings, Allison. So much.
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