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There are leaps of faith
and there are things like this

the same prayer
worn thin by praying
the old desire made weary
by wanting
over and over and
the sheer number of days
made all the days the same
and I came to accept that
this is what’s real

while I kept dreaming.

I wanted to tell you
how often I prayed for you,
how badly I wanted
to find you.
But when you came,
shouldering the lion’s share
of sacrifices to make your way
to me, flying against winds
of fear over cities whose
names you’ve memorized and
histories both written
and perceived,
you made of my past memories
of nights of yearning,
once votive and earnest
offerings in the shrine of my
naive persuasions, and that
later got reduced into nothing but
an old habit that died hard which
I only wore around my neck
like an amulet because
it defined me once,
merely a few minutes of words
and a windy afternoon’s worth
of kisses; and every other day
that followed, a beginning
of things unthought of.

Oh, how little my faith was
all along, and how weak
and tired I was of believing,
and never even realized, until
I knew your love, and
we shared a breathing reality
with a future that’s
rock-solid and tastes of honey,
and our faithful promises called
my attention to the fact that
they are too big to fit within
the margins of what
my wildest hopes had been.

“Paris Love” by photographer Kristina Фотограф в Мексике


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