after Chloe Honum’s “Offerings”
I have saved all of my prayers. Let me sing them to you with a voice like spring: thrumming sound of damp earth releasing fountains of blue, green, purple, the sound of life pushing toward the surface. Let me give you the joy of the horizon filling with dusky mist, the timid beginnings of sun before the burst. I want to drape this across your shoulders, sprinkle your forehead with raindrops full of fading stars. I want to free you from your body — or at least its pain — like a fist of roots unclenching. This is belief. This is healing. Let me lay it at your feet.
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