Sacred Ground
06.26.06
she picked up
pieces,
of
a
broken
soul
she
says,
she
did not
recognize it,
or
dream
it was mine
but
there was something special
warm
soft
to the touch
there
were
words. . .
unspoken,
words
that
meant
so much
like
rescue
in a storm
there
was
motion
movement. . .
without sound
the
sweet
smell of clensing
golden
glow
of
sacred- ground