But I am not a woman who ever loves the full knowing. I am a wandering Israelite who sees the flame in the sky above, the pillar, the smoke from
The mountain, the earth open up and give way, and still I forget. I am beset by chronic soul amnesia. I am empty of truth and need the refilling. I need come again every day--bend, clutch, and remember--for who can gather the manna but once, hoarding, and store away sustenance in the mind for all of the living.
One Thousand Gifts, 106
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