The Garden

Devastating, the wild world, its visible light,
its forbidden unhappiness, unholiness;
a transitional passage to the other side.

In the same way, I forgive my father, I forgive
myself.  Absolutely. The doorway holds
two faiths.  Entrance, exit.

There is a God.  For each blonde-white star,
each radiant end, every wilted heart there
is a beginning, a middle, a finish.

And then return
to the garden
we were made for.

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