The Rising

You can rise above the body blows, but
like a yipping dog, they will bite
at your heels. Keep rising.

Nurture the awakening.
Fresh starts and new directions,
karmic completions.

Cowering in the shadows beneath an avalanche of chaos of hate, anger, fear, I search for the holy materiality, tangible manifestations of the holy.

Gratitude for coffee mug,
smooth on lip and warm on skin,
bitter sweetness on the tongue,
do your angels call you blessed?

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018


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