All the things that I pray
God will show me,
all the questions I've asked
glow like stars, stickered
on my bedroom ceiling
The place of horizontal whispers
too weak to straighten out
all that the day
has bent out of shape
Slowly
the stars peel and fall
while gravity rolls its eyes
The place of kneeling wishes
never standing up
to open the lids
that block its dreams
The place I'm leaving
to find somewhere
open and true
to wake up to
Again, I know I say this often, but your heart just bleeds in your work and I love feeling it, seeing it and knowing you are sharing so deeply.
ReplyDeleteYou are poetry.