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a golden stem
a temple bell –
an altar I have raised
tis here I bow
and here I place my hands
in prayer for place
for circumstance
would give your song to me
to fill a grand cathedral
and bring me
to my knees

a poem without rhyme
is all I have to bring
lines are naked
verses without shame
senses now awakened
to moments lived
graces I have taken –
I have taken
in your name

walls of deepest cedar
floors are warped
by tears –
as holy once the wine
we passed between
the lips that mouthed surrender
tongue where truth
is grieved
love when there is nothing
would cleave your breath
from me

. . .