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Blessing the Dust

September 17, 2021



 

Today, wildfire smoke

makes morning light feel old,

weighs the air

with a thousand deaths,

a thousand more.

 

Today the stream bed is dry,

choked with fallen leaves,

earth cracked deep with thirst.

Dust rises beneath my feet,

settles, coats my skin.

 

Today grasshoppers rise

by the many, rise

like distracted prayers,

leaping from trail

to tangled underbrush,

 

snapping open dark wings

veined with gold

then gone

            their mystery

defying gravity

rising through smoke

blessing the dust.



The featured image is courtesy of Hamish Weir.



 

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  1. Luci N Shaw says:

    Amy, what a joy to see how your creative life is flourishing! I remember you with great affection.

  2. Denise says:

    Amy,
    this is wonderful word craft… born, clearly, of your having given yourself to gaze at hard times… while still trusting His grace and holding to His hand.
    Respectfully,
    Denise

  3. Amy Christine Malskeit says:

    @Luci, what a delight to find you here. I am so thankful for your encouragement. You have been a conduit for Tov in my life. With much affection, Amy

  4. Amy Christine Malskeit says:

    @Denise, thank you for this reflection.

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