Saved by a Smile

Perhaps the miracle does not conclude the tragedy, it removes it altogether, as light does shadow. It would seem a perfect joy to me to lie still in this darkness – to sink away, remaining awake. To be nothing but an arm across a pillow, a shoulder beneath a sheet.

Maybe when we stop making sense, then we have a chance to find it as it scatters unpredictably and floats in particles without wings. Halfway between sleeping and waking, I feel a tenderness between my lips. Real miracles make little noise. Nothing has been said. Yet everything is resolved.