...as the body without the spirit is dead, also faith without actions is dead. --James 2:26

she moves through crowds to grip his cloth
she holds
faith that her purity reaches
beneath her blood that god stretches
from the stars to
her cells
she is right reaches
out eyes
squinting through
dust fingers extend to graze
or grasp to know
confirm the truth she hopes not hopes
believes she believes
her god lives in the words
she reads
James King and Cone ring
with her human truth, proof of god in our bodies
in all of our bodies finds god
again and again elusive reaches
out as far as she can and loses her grip
on the world

whose colors become brilliant,
extreme, shape
shifting as she turns
inside out to look at her Self it is
hard to see through her skin it is
supposed to be translucent it is
white leather
against her burgeoning muscles wrestling
to break free, spiritful storm where her body meets
the world

she breathes with gusts each
exhale an expansion turning
right side out turning
East she finds herself
under blessing hands
of smiling crooked women; tall, peaceful men
embraced by the grace of her struggle

rise in excitement
cup in support
stretch out in longing
curve to the sky in gratitude
holding up that they know
confirm the truth she hopes not hopes
believes: that she is sacred

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