To say our address is that of hearts growing in bright, bold gardens is what I’ve wanted to tell you since this sickness began.
That, and pain isn’t a nickname we must carry to the grave.
When I say I hear your voice across the miles, what I mean is river, moon, sage, sermon, orchard, wish, and wilderness.
In other words, simply knowing there is room in our beings for the ethical and ethereal, the earthbound and unimaginable, is all I need right now.
Put another way, knowing we wander the earth together at this time in history might not be the inoculation I need for a pandemic,
but it is the perfect medicine for my heart.
