I never thought such a thing
Would be easy,
The dissection of the soul,
The stitching together
What was wrought assunder
From repeated blows.

Reflecting on all the scars,
The hours spent
Searching the depths
Through heavy mist,
Sedate and determined
To trace all the ways
In which I was made to
Keep going,
Rudely defiant
At giving in

And in this respite
I find solace
Is much quieter
Than I anticipated,
The glory much softer
Than I expected,
Like a real bed after
Months on the road.

I keep sinking
Into this feeling.
That, now whole,
Now that the striving
Has met rest,
I am ill at ease
Without that paticular purpose.
I am
After atonement,
On the promise
Tomorrow brings.

-Angel Marie Russell

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