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Grace Descending

Of course you know you cannot earn her.

Elevating memories of heat and light,

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heft of your infant as you lift him to the mirror,

your breath rising like smoke after a winter run,

love (that dark bird) climbing always from the ashes.

She simply descends


through miles of lonely inner space,

turns to gold what you have misspent,

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gathers you into her sturdy, lowering arms.

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