Earth churning in my hands.
Rubber band knuckles pull in and through
what I kneed.
Pour wet, salted anguish
into the rusty yeast.
A splash of hope
walks on the air
and makes me white.
I kneed and find
my nose kissed with earthen love
and my fears relieved of duty,
grind my struggles into simplicity.
A hard hands work softens the heart.
All my wheat had fallen
but its new ground birth
gives me everything
I need.
Thanks to Rebecca for this Saturday's inspiration, "Making homemade bread."
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