His death was not air
held and let go:
gurgling, rise in the chest
head up, fighting for breath.
Years later
nights
are no easier.
Hospital rooms, long
corridors, dark
curtains drawn. She draws her body up
night after night going deeper.
Each
morning awake
she is startled
she is here
she has found her way back.
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Candles in the dark
I do want to talk about Kairos more sometime when I can think more about it. Just a quick thought, stealing more from Standing at the Cor...
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