Thursday Poem
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Reassurance

I must love the questions themselves as Rilke said like locked rooms full of treasure to which my blind and groping key does not yet fit

and await the answers as unsealed letters mailed with dubious intent and written in a very foreign tongue

and in the hourly making of myself the thought of Time to force, to squeeze the space I grow into.

by Alice Walker *from *Her Blue Body Everything We Know Harcourt Books, 1991

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