Cupped…

serving-hands

Practice the wound of love

Let it devastate

It will scrape your soul

For blessed are the gentled

Blessed are the meek

Blessed are those whose fullness

Now lies empty

 

Practice the wound of love

For in that broken place

Grief is no longer silent

Ragged roots tap deep

Into this trampled earth

Blessed are you, as you reach for love

For it reaches for you

 

Practice the wound of love

Let it devastate

For nothing ever came from nothing

Apart from love

At the end of everything

We are cups

Who are cupped

We are held

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