called once

I was spoken
not to
but into
by tongue
salivating onto dust
mixed into clay
a word
a life
you can say

I am the salve
that returns sight
to the blind
a slip upon your eyes
that cracks and contracts
as it cures and dries
you will see
and give praise
only once
I am
washed away

I am the warm breath
like wind in the cedars
hissing through teeth
and tongue and lips
the first sounds
you hear
past muddied fingertips

I am the word
scribbled on earth
a soft curved
finger width line
drawn in the sand
and you will join me here
once you let fall
the stones in your hands

I was called
groaned into the air
and ground into dirt
not a sentence
nearly a question
simply a living


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