Yes to the wood-brown nymphs of summer, teasing the air with their legs and making trees and rivers shine and shimmer;
Yes to the autumn sky’s alarum, to cirrocumuli racing to their deaths and forests evanescing;
Yes to winter snows making golden deathmasks for our faces;
Yes to the suffering and confessions of the night;
Yes to you in your splendour, simple and unaware;
Yes to the kisses that killed me, that pierced my heart like St Sebastian’s arrows.
How many times have I fallen?
How hard have I fallen to my knees or on my face, again and again,
Yet always risen, staggered up and on?
Nothing can stop me:
I am here and moving forward,
Christ in one hand, Satan in the other.
I ask no charity,
Just let me breathe,
And I will find the deep and swim…
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