in the early morning I wake

and feel the space that’s left

though I’ve filled it many times

today, again, it lies vacant


between life and death


between darkness and light

always halfway

to something I can’t grasp

and I rise slowly

eyes damp with morning’s dew

and remember

how it feels

to root my feet

into the ground

from whence I came

to feel the earth

beneath me

that calls me home

to something lost

something I can’t seem to find

or grasp

within my trembling hands

a place

where I am whole

and warm and safe

where hope lived

like the tides that wash me clean

my yearly baptism from shame

like soft moss that encircled my head

giving me a place to rest my dreams

like breathing in the pine

and breathing out the broken things





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