You, my dear,
are not that sinner
that hater
that worm
groveling in the
subterranean dark.

You, my love,
are a great explorer
of this vast, fecund world
with its gooey saliva spit
its sharp edges
that cut to the very bone
its naïve kisses
in the backseat of a Camaro
its plunges into cool pools
splashed by waterfalls
walks on sharp gravel
when you burn up your shoes
or walks of shame
when you lose your virginity
or bowing over a toilet
after too much tequila,
the chocolate streaming
in your veins
and the screams
at the one you most love,
the regret and the self-hate
that make you dig
your fingernails into your thighs
as punishment,
and the dawn
when dew coats your heart
and reminds you
again and again
that you are here
to live
and love
and lose.

You are here to know the whole,
as intimately as your own palm.

Every touch, blink and teardrop
leading to that most sacred knowing…

That you are all of it
and none of it,
and every breath
and kiss
is a prayer to God

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