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Healing (a prose poem)


Oh God we break,
Along fault lines you know well
Laid carefully in place from our conception.
The line between wholeness and fracture,
The line between 15 and 85,
Which we picture as broad an open and supple,
But all our lives it narrows and crumbles and crusts
Until it is the most tenuous of Borders
One we can step over without intention at all
And break.

But you are the God of wholeness,
You are the knitting together of what is broken,
You are the healing of what is fractured.
Lift us up gently in our brokenness,
Hold us close to you cheek to cheek
Until our cries subside,
Our tears are dried,
And we are one, complete in you.


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There are spaces in life
In which, more than pray,
You become prayer.
It is as if every tiny bit of you
Stretches upward,
Leans forward
In supplication;
Every cell with microscopic hands
There are spaces in life
That feel like
You can’t pray
But you are prayer.