Even Bees Dream of Paris
By Amy Souza
Inspired by Sean Callahan’s art

Truth is plural, you said.
My truth, your truth, theirs.
All of us are right, but none of us wholly so.

Just for today, I will release the struggle.
Sit on the dock. Feel the sun on my arms, the tops of my feet.
The rough wood below locks me in place.

My soul needs rest,
even as its fancies buzz and swirl toward their passions,
their calls from God.

I will sit, drink in the day, feel the stretch along my spine,
acknowledge the body for where it’s taken me, what it allows.
Each breath enters deeply, departs slowly.

Salt air on my tongue.

My purpose need be nothing more than this:  silent thanks for what is.

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© 2012 Amy Souza. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

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