The chalklines of your courage form the yard I live in.
The anger you protected me from lives in a basement room of our old house.
Your voice has never left.
I see your smile in the top right-hand corner of my new apartment,
Your arm around me on a table with a purpose,
Our anniversary portrait in the closet.
I hear your laughter at any moment,
But in the syrup of sadness, when I miss you most, you leave.
Be Thou My Vision
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