Tuesday, September 27, 2011


there is nothing so besotting as the slow
release of daybreak -- bright patina seeping
from the sun swollen arms
spilling out to a sleeping world,
waking, informing.

Consider Jacob, a mere mortal -
wrestling all night
with God.

And for what strange purpose?

Wrestling holds apathy at bay.
Suffers the questions.
Suffers the answers.
Names our brokenness and
all our small disasters,
ennobles our slow perpetual limping.

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