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Drawing the Soul “Imagine your soul,” Miss Shuker said, “How beautiful its shape when it leaves Your body to seek your angel self.” She led us to the stained glass window For Ascension, Christ among the doves, The sky surrounding him like a veil. “Draw light,” she said. “Draw joy without wings For you shall have them,” and Linda Roy Drew a yellow circle while Dave Trask Fashioned a feathered orange arrow On the heavy construction paper We cut with our Sunday School scissors, Each pair painted red with rounded tips And the warning not ever to point Because they were dangerous as guns. A soul, I knew, weighed almost nothing, Or else I’d feel it inside my heart, And I drew dust, one piece light enough To rise, Miss Shuker saying “snowflake” And smiling as we pasted our souls Below the cloud where she’d drawn a hand That reached down for our flowers and stars, The loose sleeve at its wrist so golden We imagined Jesus on his knees To take us through the floor to heaven Just above the thick paper’s edge where We couldn’t see, even when she held Our soaring souls up to the window, Bathing our futures in pastel light. p14 1FINCKE_pages.qxd 5/21/08 9:31 AM Page 14 ...

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