segunda-feira, 31 de março de 2014

Soul searching

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Soul searching

Seven religions she had tried before finding her Christ, said she.  Yet
the silvery shaking of the plane unsettled her spirit. Not to worry, said I, the non- believer. 
Or, perhaps, believer:   in fallible human plans, in chaos, the finitude of feeling. On Sunday out in the countryside, I saw it: pastel blue box wedged between cornfields and silos, a crazy pastor shrieking and shaking its walls. Out on the dirt roads, the rain was beginning to fall and there was the world, cracked wide open, and us , racing right by, some last-minute stint to recover
the wild.      Layers of fear falling away.
Like the blond lady on the plane, who needed such assuage.
Christ, she assured me, had loved her back.
He had even forgiven the tattoo.

   - Miriam Adelman

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