Sometimes
you get down on your knees.
Forehead
to the floor,
Hands
writhing, palms to the sky,
You
surrender.
I
am there now, willfully.
Beautiful
things flow between
The
pleas, the will,
And
the wants
And
the noise begins to quiet.
We
have all been there before.
Forced
there by dreadful
Circumstance
That
shouldn’t be more
Than
a memory but the body
Recalls
that you’ve been there
Before.
But
before, the agency was reversed.
The
floor smelled acrid
While
it now smells sweet
And
forgiving
And
you
Are
free.
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