on a day called
dank and dreary
walking wet up past my knees
slipping sliding
climbing
higher
places
that are no more
to see
imagination
captured
by abandon
forgetting where I long to be
only right in front of me
no thought
no fantasy
no question
no statement
no word
no shame
no condemnation
stealing away
glimpses of the beauty
that is today
the feast of Edith Stein St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross
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