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October 22, 2010
The sky is gray, but comforting. It is the kind of sky that soothes. She watches us little mortals cry and scream and rage, and she coos to us.

"Shh. Shh, darling ones. Shh. Today you can start over. Today you can be new."

We stare at her a moment, too hurt and confused to hear.

"Shhh," she says again. "I will clean away your blood. I will soak the blue from your bruises. Your cheeks will be wet only with rain. No tears. No tears."

Thank you, Mother Sky. I hurt myself too often. Today, I will be healed.