9.1 Awake My Heart

Awake My Heart My heart Awake Is fresh and white Fine and crisp like linen Unfurled across an old oak table At the table It waits To be fed and filled With slow-cooked wisdom And long-cured slices of life

Life cut From core to skin Then salted and preserved In jars of listening so deep Even their silence is heard Heard around The invisible edges That line thought and breath Refining the voice Vanishing distractions and noise

~ Cheryl Murfin, along the Camino de Santiago