Oh brother where art…

I think I’m praying for my brothers at night when my heart hurts
when I finally stop aching over my own broken hearts,
when the sun burns me down so I remember more than I forget
when I’m running in the salt, wet to the knees but dry inside
when an exhausting beach is so much rest to my sore, sore fight
when my throat is parched, my heart is full & God must be moving somewhere

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