“But I am afraid to trust,” he says.
“Begin by trusting what is freely given,” she replies.
“But I don’t understand,” he says.
“Pretend as though you do,” she says gently smiling.
“Pretend you trust the spacious skies
This air that gives you life
The hawk that sees you and tips its’ wings
The pinon branches waving to you in the wind
The silence that lovingly surrounds you in the night
The summer sun arising once again.”
“Pretend,” she said quietly as he wept,
“You can trust your tears
on this longest day of the year.”
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