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Talking to God in a Dark Room
Heaven is the sun setting over the Rocky Mountains in my rearview mirror.
Saturated, sacrosanct.
She is in the passenger seat,
she is rich and warm and autumnal.
When I say “rich,” I do not mean that she is wealthy.
When I say “rich,” I am referring to the way her voice melts frost into dew on a blade of grass.
When I say “rich,” I am referring to the way she breathes in the smell of the wet cedar porch
as we walk down the stairs and into the rain.
When she looks at the stars, I look at their reflection in her eyes.
A coruscating cosmos; condensed,
saturated, sacrosanct.
I did not realize the hardness of my face until I felt the softness of her fingers against my cheek.
Adonai Elohim,
I pray to you in times of weakness
but she is the one who brings me strength.
Adonai Elohim,
you are my god
but she is my salvation.
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