Grace Descending

Of course you know you cannot earn her.

Elevating memories of heat and light,

heft of your infant as you lift him to the mirror,

your breath rising like smoke after a winter run,

love (that dark bird) climbing always from the ashes.

She simply descends


through miles of lonely inner space,

turns to gold what you have misspent,

gathers you into her sturdy, lowering arms.

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