Sunday, June 2, 2013


traveling along the border country
not here and not there
lost in shadows of almost

I heard God speaking in Spanish
brown hands with knuckles swollen
working the dough with care

angels glowing in the sunset
grinding wheat into fine flour
fetching water in pitchers of cool stone

she spoke to me in her holy language
of foreign manna and living water
her dark eyes meeting mine

I took and ate
lowered my head for her blessing
and then journeyed on

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