Thursday, September 10, 2009

they keep saying a word
but that means
no parents
and I have parents
had parents
never will
know them


In all of my imaginings of God,
I cannot imagine Heaven.
Nor can I imagine grace.
Nor can I imagine wholeness, or home;
And often I wonder
was it somehow planned this way,
How do I live through
one more day--
I can't; but the body can, they say...

I am dying a new kind of death.


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