We so often move toward wounds as doorways: the bloody, violent, creaturely moment is not erased by grace but made eternal by it. Hunger doesn’t go away; it’s woven into a kind of love.
We so often move toward wounds as doorways: the bloody, violent, creaturely moment is not erased by grace but made eternal by it. Hunger doesn’t go away; it’s woven into a kind of love.
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