From Heaven

Rain gathers at the lowest point
and rises to meet its level.
All the old scars are hidden,
some carved deeper, while others
fill with rich deposits
from far distant loss.

O swirling calm, placid roar,
a drink and a drowning in one,
meet me halfway, we pray,
yet we receive
what heaven sends
regardless of words we say.

Drink to the depths, then rest
as bleached and broken bones.

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