grace

Grace all sufficient
indeed i beleive it
but grace is something i wear in part; like a jacket that hangs around my elbows while i focus on the sweat that cools off my shoulders and the heat in my exhale as i run.
it isn't on
it isn't off
simply accessible

unused maybe

it's just a word like the others in my ear

but i need those words to run to or at least the chorded notes that crack open like eggs that might one day become words, oozing all over my guarded heart. I wonder how to survive the knotted chaos of fighting rhythms: the pulse of feet on gravel; the rise and fall of lungs and ribs; and the crushing strength inside the song.
cracking outward
storming downward
desperate breath caught in pattern and laced to the break of waves and the beat of wings til i'm part of some natural pendulum that all of life fixes its rhythms to
i am fastened somewhere in the same cyclical repitition as the heartbeat of a hummingbird

all i can do is breath

nothing left for singing amazing Grace
just feet that drum on gravel
and lungs that rise and fall

and a jacket that hangs around the elbows in unuse

maybe grace is the exhale and the sweat that cools from my shoulder

instead of the jacket no longer need