HOLY

Maybe I won't touch
these gentle scenes
of you stretching & curling,
inhaling & blinking;
signs of living,
with my body.

Maybe it won't hurt
to be upside down
over this earth
as it spins steadily on.

Maybe if I walk
the stars long enough,
I too would shine.

All these probables
can mean anything
but if you hear
my name sometime
or find my face still
smiling in a picture frame,
I hope it is familiar.

I hope for other things too;
the sky turning pink,
a flower tasting dew,
a dove alighting
on the lean branch
of an almond tree.

What I'm trying to say is,
this earth cannot hide
her beauty even
when you hurt
sometimes & you will hurt
sometimes & I hope
my thousand years old trauma
does not afflict you.

You, who I'll not see.

You who I'll carry
as a memory of love,
depthless as God.

& God must be kind
because now I can dream
of you, I can almost hear
your lungs rustle
from the other side
& this will be enough.

I am enough for now.

I can give myself
the joy of imagining
you becoming,
doing, living.

Now I can be a gentle
prophet, God,
I can be holy
at least this one time.

Yes this one time,
life has given me
kindness without asking
anything of me
& I'm satisfied.

I'm free.

Amin.


hand-4661763_640.jpg
Pixabay


Today I heard something beautiful. Today I breathe. I'm happy with the world. Indeed, I'm.

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