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Poetry

Adama By Christa Linz

I

t is morning, the air is cold with fog—icicles enveloping the needles and cones outside of my window. Deeply I inhale the frigid air that hovers hauntingly above my bed, feeling simultaneously the life and death of the cool air. I ponder the particles now a part of me, pieces of dust that became life through vocal vibration. If only my words had as much power. I feel the warmth of my covers moving in on the ancient presence in my lungs, now melting only to take in another, more peaceful breath of air. The dust enters once again, drawing my heart back to the first breath ever taken on earth, the intimacy which we were created for. Mouth to nose, we received life and the calling to love exuberantly. Oh, how my soul longs to be that dust! For my very essence to be molded into its intended perfection, ever-pointing towards the Creator, the earth my inspiration for such praise. ryuioafhjklbm

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Ecotone 2013 Body & Environment  

The journal of the University of Oregon Environmental Studies Program

Ecotone 2013 Body & Environment  

The journal of the University of Oregon Environmental Studies Program

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