What mysteries visit in the dark
when knowing and loving fail
and joy is forgotten?
I’m tempted to conclude
amidst the heaving wait
that darkness will utter the final word
that doom shall consume
that all I’ve ever feared
will become true
But if I wait
for the heaving to do its work
until my hands hang limp
and my knees give way
fall to a calming quiet
As I wait there
powerless and oddly safe
as pure gift
the dawn breaks
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