Once I saw the whole thing.  You could say I asked for it.

“God,” I began. I was centered in sigil; my spine was sharp and straight and glistened in the sun like a sword. I was breathing softly with intention. Breathe. I became breath. My living room rocked like a cradle swathed in nightlight enveloping the baby’s fear and I had been promised some protection. God. I asked for breath. Breathe. I became breath and nestled in large silk strands, the hair of a goddess, the forearms of a saint. “God,” I started again. I let the fire in my chest build with each name I said until I could feel the slow burning rise to full flame. I waited until I could feel the full pounding; until I could hear someone say YES! from a distance.

“God,” I started again (and let it be known I was not shaking).  “Whose answered prayer am I?”

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