Mystery at the Door

believing in a thousand

fragile and unprovable things

—Mary Oliver

It’s not even distance that matters:

how many miles, how many years,

how many inches on the map. I believe

in the leap, the untying of strings,

the improbable learning to fly.

I believe in the wings that beat in the chest,

the sky concert where song unfolds in the breath.

I believe in praising the ache as it blossoms

in heartbreak’s bountiful soils. In scouring.

How a whispered yes unleashes ninety-nine butterflies.

A kiss becomes wave. A blue flames ignites the universe.

Blink. Unblink. Reach. Receive. I believe

in unbuilding the walls that we’ve made.

I believe in opening. Unproving. Praise.


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