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We come of age each day, the eve of redemption, to walk the path alone. But in the distance, all our roads converge. We must remember this.

There’s music in our language, to remind us, every word a proper note, a glimpse at elevation to wash away the gilded systems of belief. Maybe these words will pluck a long forgotten note a harmony of being buried deep inside. Maybe the music of our language will reveal we’re coming close and we are not alone in our undoing. You see, I feel too much and fall in love too easily. And I am revealed by you.

Excerpt from the poem, Baptism, in WA IS WATER.

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Jennifer

Preston Chushcoff

Gig Harbor, WA

ARTIST & AUTHOR

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