sometimes knowing God tastes like saskatoon berries
sometimes when i open up my senses, flower to sun, i can touch heaven
i practice, at breakfast, touching texture of peanut-butter toast... it sticks to mouth-roof as if i'm gluing shingles... and i think of george washington carver and the rows of peanut plants green with money and the people dancing in their scarves and their baskets
i smell my coffee before drinking it, and i remember mum and her mocha time and i say a prayer for her
i watch my son crawl towards me across the yellow shaft of morning and i say nothing, just let the love happen, and it fills me so full i think it will overflow and i'm worried he might drown in it, but i let it happen anyway, because i know deep down it's buoyant
and i paint until the picture corrects itself, these giraffes once being a tree that never really grew right, but i just slathered red and started over and turned off perfection, turned on my heart, and there, they appeared, silhouetted against sunset sky
sometimes knowing God is nothing about me, and all about the other
and it happens, only when i stop trying
he must become greater; i must become less. (John 3:30)
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*prints of Giraffes available here*