yet,
so am I.
Unchanged.
splintering hellos
wasting walk words,
channeling agreements
with friends called strangers,
waiting for his God to enter my
calamity, daily waking, resoling soul
as though there was never blood cleansing
God's version of who she is: was she ever His?
Not his, that is known, but His. God, where is she?
Posted by nancy at November 8, 2013 02:08 PM