I imagine this place in the story as silence
It runs the length of looking back
and disappears into a storm. I wonder, what
we begin to know. The pressure
keeps up, a secret
longing risen in the heart - how
vulnerable we are -
the earth rocks and falls open -
We are not afraid
to be. Inside, begins
a rumble, we carry
the fire of songs and stories
beyond our histories drenched in salt. It's flowers
and food growing, it's surrender - to pray, open
the whole self to birds and know
there is more we can't
know/see/hear, in languages
that aren't even words. To know
we are made of moments steadily growing
in beauty, in strife - lived with a fever
and nothing cures it
though you dream your fiery body
dips in a great river
rushing, foamed. We are linked
by water and fire. We stand alone
close to prophecy, close
to love
in front of the crowd, in light. I wake
from a dream of dying, how desire
was created
into bone and flesh -
it can't help but spill. You hear
howls, you are
a gift/journey - of course you can make it
home
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