unfolding ~

tornadoday

how many mornings
were left
on the floor –
fingers unfolding
pressed to my heart
so thankful for this
I lived for
gifts unintended
traded to me –
nights I said grace
while you slept
fevered
forgiving
of moments between
to take without leaving
to break
without bread
kneeling in shadows
grateful
and blessed
for all that was written
a time passed before
I awoke in your dreams –
unashamed of the light
that fell like a whisper
with a promise
of more

. . .

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