A stalking grace by Kelli Woodford

grace moves softly toward me on padded feet.
i consider her advances, but i can’t embrace her yet.
for my heart is burning and i feel compelled to unload the weight i carry.
so i walk narrow hallways and squeeze hard for the last drops of understanding.
i scour the horizon for theophanies and plead with heaven for some relief.
but i don’t find peace.
until.
i come back to grace.
she rubs herself soft against my bare leg.
i receive her generosity, and i look up and around.
it’s so much wider here.
yes, all of a sudden, it’s so much larger — with grace.
ah, but she was with me all along.
stalking me, waiting for my strivings to cease.
for so deeply she desires to teach the posture of openness,
that it is never quite right to say that i have found grace,
but rather that grace has found me.
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