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64 pages, Paperback
First published November 4, 2017
Healing comes slow,
little by little, morning by morning, winter by winter.
Here is religion: the impossible knowing that one
of these days I will wake up & I will not be sad.
Every broken morning is worth that faith.
But listen close. There is music playing in the next apartment
& it sounds so much like becoming again.
"there isn’t enough sky for the things i want to tell you"
“Look. Look. Look. Look at the girl who does not want to get out of bed.
Look how she does anyway, just to spite the whole goddamn universe. Just to say I told you so.”
"I am learning to care for all of it,
even on the days when the only constant is the reimagining of broken breaths."
"I believe in God like I believe
in French toast & the inevitability
of loving...I believe in a God who understands why people jump from bridges."
"There is this religion I know of in which every morning I wake up & I am not sad.
My temple no longer propped up by Prozac, but moulded into the shape of a heart that wants to keep beating."