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I have touched God.
I have my moments.
I’m a constant dappling footprint in reeded shallow,
a progress of liquid shadow,
a metaphor for life.
At my strongest I move communities to hate me
or draw their love and desire,
when I am weak I merely slide over silty residue.
I birth a multitude of existences;
my fluid breath stimulating and nurturing
creatures that walk and fly and swim.
I hold a key to life and death
and unlock doors to both passageways
in unequal measure.
I have my moments.
I am holy, I touch all faiths with my fingers
servant to some, lord to others.
I am all shapes and none,
shaping and shaped,
flowing to passionate waves.
I have touched God.
I held Him embraced in my life-death control
for a moment when heaven smiled
and found I was powerless to do all but cleanse.
I heard the words spoken to eternity:
“This is my beloved Son”
and I fell as tears from His body.
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