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hiya@kristindotcom.com

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More Schtuff.

God.

March 28, 2016

And you have built large boxes
So you can meet God
Large boxes with high walls 
where you wait 
In your lacey gloves and wide hats
For God.
Where you hold words in your lap
Instead of your hearts
Fiery phrases yelled from throats drunk with power into heads nodding 
And clinking their shiny things into plates for God.

 

Yet.
She is the light rain tapping at the stained glass 
And the sun that brings the bead onto your lip
She is the wave.
And each blade of grass that itches against your calf.

 

The hibiscus pollen stuck and staining your skin.
The sweet musk of the cedar, and the casuarina berries that prick our bare feet
The salt in our sweat. In our tears. In our sea.

 

The crab spider has Her face on it’s back, as it spins a creation across the top of the road.
The daddy long leg swept out of the corners,
Showing you how dainty and creepy and marvelous She can be.

 

Each day I worship God.
Reaching up on tiptoes to gather Her cherries and let juice drip down my chin.
Laugh at the cow’s jaw moving side-to-side and lean in close to hear the tiny frog sing Her a hymn.
The lizard’s throat bulges forth with prayer. 
Even the cricket that jumps onto my arm and causes me to squeal is part of her choir. 

 

Standing at ocean edge, I roar laughter with Her
and bury my toes in the sand.
Float on darkness and stare into Her golden magic, then
Dance around Her, warming my legs.

 

Dig my palms into dark earth and wait for Her to smile at me from a tomato.
Or hot pepper. 
To see Her recognize me from all the times we have met

 

She doesn’t want our shiny things.

 

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