![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUAAtjRKHWMdFDmLW5jJaj5pkBzbXTp7s0T4-7jrpLh3heDhbWRdkwz09qDZjcl8k2LjDmlxVWOE-T8AmdAZ4DZkXIhHNUsWBw0BRXHugFH5tqazglDq30XKxabdmQ4Z8F6YReb22iiNIE/s320/IMG_2824.jpg)
A sacred place,
I put my face against the stone
And prayed.
And as I did, a bird sang.
It sang to me,
Though I could not see it.
No one else, I know, could hear it.
It must have been in the dry bushes,
Above my head.
Obdurate stone.
We lay our lives against it; pray.
There is a song for us.
I know it now.
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