« I sing the LORD'S songs »
(palms once tough to stay alive,
alarm clock on five).
Cinnamon cheeks, Lord,
cornbread smile. SONGS feed your ribs
when you're hungry, chile.
Washboard certainties,
soldierly grace, text and style
in her brimming face.
Your hand on your heart,
her voice in your ear: pilgrim,
rest easy. Sit here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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