Above the ground after a brief silence they resume their war before they are even out of the graveyard, climbing over each other trying to save their own lives, clawing at some unseen soil above them,
while beneath he rests in peace, where, after all, we each long to be, borne to our resting ground, cherished and at peace, soon and very soon.
Could I slip beneath the grass of my battlefields and travel there? Can I find a way to live without that combat, rest without that death, to grant to the wicked the eternal peace of the living?
God, bury me beneath the feet of my anxieties. Let them go on without me, arguing. Let me be a ghost of grace, untroubled, unbound, interred in love.
__________________ Steve Garnaas-Holmes Unfolding Light www.unfoldinglight.net
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