Poem: Breathing Holy

If this is the place
Where nothing is holy,
Then let’s make a space
To change that, utterly
Where sighs and love, and
Half-whispered words
Are all that’s required
To make the world turn;
Where the light behind eyelids
Is not nervous sensation,
But instead is known
As religious exclamation;
Where clasped hands
And a head on my breast
Can hear and feel more
Than the heart in my chest;
Where, in moments of silence,
(The breathing of breaths)
We can feel down to our souls
There’s more than we sense.

I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

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