Full Of Grace

Who are our

first sanctuary.

Who fashion

a space of blessing

with their own being:

with the belly

the bone and

the blood

or,

if not with these,

then with the

durable heart

that offers itself

to break

and grow wide,

to gather itself

around another

as refuge,

as home.

Who lean into

the wonder and terror

of loving what

they can hold

but cannot contain.

Who remain

in some part of themselves

always awake,

a corner of consciousness

keeping perpetual vigil.

Who know

that the story

is what endures

is what binds us

is what runs deeper

even than blood

and so they spin them

in celebration

of what abides

and benediction

on what remains:

a simple gladness

that latches onto us

and graces us