tethered to the silence
but between the darkness
were the crushed thoughts
and through the darkness
were the fragmented words
then there was the beehive drone
of the refrigerator—low, menacing
I turned over in bed
and enshrouded myself
one hand clutched the blanket
one hand pressed the heart
through the darkness
I saw the words revealed to me,
white and pure—
washed by a forgiving time.
Written: circa Spring 2003
Photo: Tim Walker
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