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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