I felt you today, like a dream only more elusive. The wind blew past me, muggy and warm, and suddenly we were in a confessional, tucked away and claustrophobic. And you whispered to me through the wooden slats, “Priest, tell me your sins.”
It was like a memory, but I have no recollection of it. And yet it felt so familiar.
|subject:||Re: In Passing|
That’s because it is a blood memory, a bone memory. Your mind has forgotten it but your body and spirit remember.