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Poem: She Is There (guest post by Rachel Sopher)

Our body is an empty cup
From loss to loss
to mourn to grow up is to grieve
And still she is there
spinning through sky’s waters
long tentacles flowing with
silent grace grasping at nothing
moving with languor
as if just to dance
as if just to dance
for the sake of her own eloquence
its fineness
too fragile for these
human hands and hearts
If we could only slow
our breath to stillness
even just for a second
even just for a half and then all we get is
one chance
in each moment
to meet in our aloneness
in its unrefined depths
in the never ending flow of this and that
that becomes something else
then something else
then something so beautiful
it couldn’t possible be
and


we can never know what it is
only what it was to imagine
what it might become
this is when the rain
reminds us back into our body
and still she roils around
sky’s darks waters
transparent utterly beautiful
enfolding, unfolding
flowering ever inwards
gathering in spitting out
with ease
like the breath
it is not personal
it is not personal

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Eric Platt

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