She speaks with authority
of life breathing hard
and good inside her,
a declaration of
what is solid and true.
What do you most believe?
For this truth—
you live it, she says.
I imagine her face,
flecks of gold spitting fire
when her eyes crinkle
so creases frame
corners of her cheeks.
Her hands are open,
fingers splayed like an
offering spilling over,
a beautiful mess.
I see goodness everywhere
in the shadows of night
and creased bedspreads
of sleeplessness,
in red-streaked prayers
and the void of no answers.
Here, she finds what she
has always known:
majesty bursts out of
the most surprising,
unexpected places where
she is held, pressure upon
the tender places
yet unsoothed.
-jennifer j. camp
This post appeared originally at jenniferjcamp.com
