someone spoke to me last night
told me the truth. just a few words,but i recognized it.
i knew i should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and i was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
now, i remember only the flavor —
not like food, sweet or sharp.
more like fine powder, like dust.
and i wasn’t elated or frightened,
but simple rapt, aware.
that’s how it is sometimes —
god comes to your window,
all bright and black wings,
and you’re just too tired to open it.