I pray that you will burst
in darkness.
The flower of grace is
planted in your body.
Freedom embedded in pain,
joy is the birthright of death.
The rhythm of your heartbeat
heals all your ancestors.
They can no longer dance,
but you can listen.
Take courage, listen with your
eardrum, bellydrum, hipdrum,
urndrum where they keep
your ashes.
Other hearts beat in yours.
Every proton of your flesh
is the kiss of an ancient star,
each electron a wave
on the ocean of amazement.
Who is amazed? Don't ask.
Names don't count in the moment
between waking and sleep.
Who sleeps? Don't ask.
Just feel an exquisite tenderness
for those who insist
you have no right to be happy.
May the golden fingers
of your vagus nerve
hold them like an offering
of delicious fruit.
All night long, be breathed
by their gratitude.
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