i sit quietly
watching my soul unfold.
she’s been sleeping so long;
she’ll be starving when she wakes.
i can sense it,
her approaching wakefulness
after long gestation, hibernation,
rest.
she needed it: the time
to close her eyes and ears.
no sacred scripture crossed the threshold
of her,
no sacrament touched her lips.
now these things are strange enough
to be sacred, again.
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