I still cannot really fall asleep with ease: constant dreams of looking for a bathroom, opening door after door in unfamiliar houses; my hand, laying a night- blooming flower across my own gravestone —But when I rose this morning I gathered the fragments of the last few years in my hands and looked hard at them. Does any one of these really resemble my heart, your heart? On the stove, a hot water kettle boils because it must. The urgency for release comes in many other forms. Let the last of those tears fall, and after that tend to the earth where we are.
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