like steam our
esteemed
memory
bald
streets paved with unflung stones
hardened tiles cut from fine powder
baked by the light of the sun
ground-up sorrow tread underfoot, packed
down and then clawed open
a single wound gaping, crusting
and the stench of cruelty making
known the ugly underneath and white-knuckle-clenching it anyway.
Clods of dried soil mapped with veins of
withered roots and weeds
under open sky so wide
a rapid-beating heart explodes
impact of freedom
cracked, unpacked, your own tongue click
click clicking until
No more.
There is therefore nowno condemnationfor those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.
Condensation and evaporation
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