Thinking the Worst
Bethany (we'll call her), lady of winsome manner, blond
and just past thirty, who leads Taizé services out of the
Episcopal church three time-zones away from me, almost
whispers to her YouTube congregation, "Let us rest
in the silence of God." I look at her, and I briefly wonder
if she isn't a bit too thin. Am I discerning twin creases
of illness between her cheekbones and jaw? I say a
quick silent prayer for her health, as my default is to
imagine catastrophe where perhaps there's none.
Poetry by Thomas D

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Written on 2021-02-12 at 14:07




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