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Trust the details of Love


I am not supposed to know details.

Where I came from,

when she died,

what they escaped,

what came before,

or how I came to be

this here now.

and yet to See

the land of a person’s blood

where it leaked from

and where it is going to,

the laylines of a person’s soul


by means

I don’t understand


haven’t “earned”.

a gift given,

a blessing issued,

presenting me with a job

that I thought

was mine

but is from somewhere else,

someone else.


that I’ll never know

yet somehow know me.

tree branches


beautiful fruit.

I Read

the veins of the leaves,

the blemishes,

the varied colors,

the spiral



and sometimes


I will never know

certain details

but I was born

to Know others.

to trust a magnificence

that journeys wide

and reveals

what is needed to know

in just That moment.

I am not supposed to know

the details

that prove my worth

that legitimize my gifts

that impress “the man.”

Instead, trust

the details of Love,

gets whispered in my ear.

And I comply.


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