I must get back there: to that wooden cabin in the woods
To the open-hearted people
To circles of writers caring for the earth
I must get back: to the white-wet laughter
To glissading on our bums
To the awe-filled intakes of breath
To becoming someone I did not know I was capable of being and whom I loved to be
In the midst of crisis I longed to be pinched again, for the comfort of being held
Child, this embrace is as big as the moon
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