SM Sean McDowell May 3,1981

I am

the boy and the sling without the faith,
giant charging. My words drop
like stones from the loose strap,
and those who once lined
the camp behind me lower their heads
and turn away. In this stasis,
I cannot

blame them. They turn, as I have before—
standing waist-deep
in the Jordan, watching the dove descend,
only to flinch
in the moment of destiny—

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