I swear God spoke, his voice
sputtering down from a manhole
cover, disguised as a car missing
a muffler. I could feel
the weight of the concrete
and cars bearing down on the tips
of my hair. And when I
reached to end of the tunnel,
the wall beside me opened
like a wound and I crawled
in, unaware of muddy waters
that ate at my ankles and
the quiet recitation of prayers
above. And in my final moments,
I simply clung to myself and began
singing It Is Well With My Soul.
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