Andrea Gibson

The soul misses the way the body would hold another body and not be two bodies, but one pleading God doubled in grace. The soul misses how the mind told the body, you have fallen from grace. And the body said, erase every scripture that doesn't have a pulse. There isn't a single page in the Bible that can wince, that can clumsy, that can freckle, that can hunger. Imagine.

The soul misses the way the body would hold another body and not be two bodies, but one pleading God doubled in grace. The soul misses how the mind told the body, you have fallen from grace. And the body said, erase every scripture that doesn't have a pulse. There isn't a single page in the Bible that can wince, that can clumsy, that can freckle, that can hunger. Imagine.

The soul misses the way the body would hold another body and not be two bodies, but one pleading God doubled in grace. The soul misses how the mind told the body, you have fallen from grace. And the body said, erase every scripture that doesn't have a pulse. There isn't a single page in the Bible that can wince, that can clumsy, that can freckle, that can hunger. Imagine.

The soul misses hunger, emptiness, rage, the fist that was never taught to curl, curled, the teeth that were never taught to clench, clenched, the body that was never taught to make love, made love like a hungry ghost digging its way out of the grave. The soul misses the unforever of old age, the skin that no longer fits.

The soul misses hunger, emptiness, rage, the fist that was never taught to curl, curled, the teeth that were never taught to clench, clenched, the body that was never taught to make love, made love like a hungry ghost digging its way out of the grave. The soul misses the unforever of old age, the skin that no longer fits.

The soul misses hunger, emptiness, rage, the fist that was never taught to curl, curled, the teeth that were never taught to clench, clenched, the body that was never taught to make love, made love like a hungry ghost digging its way out of the grave. The soul misses the unforever of old age, the skin that no longer fits.

The soul misses every single day the body was sick, the now it forced, the here it built from the fever. Fever is how the body prays, how it burns and begs for another average day. The soul misses the legs creaking up the stairs, misses the fear that climbed up the vocal cords to curse the wheelchair. The soul misses what the body could not let go. What else could hold on so tightly to everything?

The soul misses every single day the body was sick, the now it forced, the here it built from the fever. Fever is how the body prays, how it burns and begs for another average day. The soul misses the legs creaking up the stairs, misses the fear that climbed up the vocal cords to curse the wheelchair. The soul misses what the body could not let go. What else could hold on so tightly to everything?

The soul misses every single day the body was sick, the now it forced, the here it built from the fever. Fever is how the body prays, how it burns and begs for another average day. The soul misses the legs creaking up the stairs, misses the fear that climbed up the vocal cords to curse the wheelchair. The soul misses what the body could not let go. What else could hold on so tightly to everything?

What else could hear the chain of a swing set and fall to its knees? What else could touch a screen door and taste lemonade? What else could come back from a war and not come back, but still try to live, still try to lullaby?

What else could hear the chain of a swing set and fall to its knees? What else could touch a screen door and taste lemonade? What else could come back from a war and not come back, but still try to live, still try to lullaby?

What else could hear the chain of a swing set and fall to its knees? What else could touch a screen door and taste lemonade? What else could come back from a war and not come back, but still try to live, still try to lullaby?

When a human dies, the soul moves through the universe, trying to describe how a body trembles when it's lost, softens when it's safe, how a wound would heal given nothing but time. Do you understand? Nothing in space can imagine it. No comet, no nebula, no ray of light can fathom the landscape of awe, the heat of shame, the fingertips pulling the first gray hair and throwing it away.

When a human dies, the soul moves through the universe, trying to describe how a body trembles when it's lost, softens when it's safe, how a wound would heal given nothing but time. Do you understand? Nothing in space can imagine it. No comet, no nebula, no ray of light can fathom the landscape of awe, the heat of shame, the fingertips pulling the first gray hair and throwing it away.

When a human dies, the soul moves through the universe, trying to describe how a body trembles when it's lost, softens when it's safe, how a wound would heal given nothing but time. Do you understand? Nothing in space can imagine it. No comet, no nebula, no ray of light can fathom the landscape of awe, the heat of shame, the fingertips pulling the first gray hair and throwing it away.

I can't imagine it, the stars say. Tell us again about goosebumps. Tell us again about pain.

I can't imagine it, the stars say. Tell us again about goosebumps. Tell us again about pain.

I can't imagine it, the stars say. Tell us again about goosebumps. Tell us again about pain.

I'm so grateful for all you do.

I'm so grateful for all you do.