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I’m talking about
the unexplainable
not the-hand-is-quicker
no conjuring tricks
no waving around
of a red handkerchief
no pistol shot
that holds the imagination
but means nothing,
nothing at all

I’m talking about
the miracle behind
Latin incantations
and Santería beads
the prestige
that brings back things
after they’ve disappeared

rose petals
votive candles
eastern monsoons
and the silver edge
of the moon

I mean the tree
you plant and watch grow
over the years
instead of making
a brass sculpture of one
I mean the turquoise Pacific waters
the shifting clouds
and the priceless breeze
through the window you cut
into your otherwise
immaculate wall
in the place of
an expensive painting of the sea
with frozen waves
and unchanging skies

I mean the love
you give up your future for
in favor of the now
trusting the unknown
in spite of the fear
in the marrow of your bones
the chance of a lifetime
that came by
at a crucial moment
that you had the insight
to grab with both hands
and embrace forever
with God as your witness