My prayers were spoken in her voice.
Quiet and strong, wise and brave,
She read my heart back to me.
As if I had handed her its ragged pages.
Divine guesses and nudges,
Raised to being, brought to life.
You etched out my dreams,
Drawing faint and broken lines.
Pushing, pulling, and prompting
The kindness out in me
Raising my chin, lifting my eyes,
Squaring my shoulders, bearing my fear.
She became a bridge, a direct line,
A switch board, an ancient door.
She was all wonder and heart
As if she were the wardrobe or the painting.
And I, the fresh snow, the frozen stream.
I, the stone fox, felt You like the warmth of Spring.