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Trust the details of Love



I am not supposed to know details.

Where I came from,

when she died,

what they escaped,

what came before,

or how I came to be

this here now.

and yet to See

the land of a person’s blood

where it leaked from

and where it is going to,

the laylines of a person’s soul

revealed

by means

I don’t understand

and

haven’t “earned”.

a gift given,   a blessing issued,

presenting me with a job

that I thought

was mine

but is from someWhere else,

someOne else.

Ancestors

that I’ll never know

yet somehow know me.

tree branches

bearing

beautiful fruit.

I Read   the veins of the leaves,

the blemishes,

the varied colors,

the spiral

dances,

beginnings

and sometimes

endings.

I will never know

certain details

but I was born

to Know others.

to trust a magnificence

that journeys wide

and reveals

what is needed to know

in just That moment.

I am not supposed to know

the details

that prove my worth

that legitimize my gifts

that impress “the man.”

Instead, trust

the details of Love,

gets whispered in my ear.

And I comply.

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