Bruised Benedictines

A song of a faraway river

carried through winding lanes

and complicated highway systems.

How could we know we’d find

we were coordinating puzzle pieces

across miles of moon-kissed clouds?

No counting moments, no looking

forward, no breath for remorse,

no worry of what has passed.

A touch of understanding,

one bruised child to another,

the song gains strength.

Leave a comment

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑