Raw Prayer

Turn your body to face your hatred now -
And meet your long campaign there -
On it beats and on and on.
What did you expect to learn by staying there?

March on then, climb, rise
To higher flatland - dry grass then far off shoreline -
Even higher, the earth on this path
Stays blood red, dry, cracked.

Please listen to me!

My prayer is for your opening.
Shout out the first word that comes
Make that the start of what you seek
And listen for the voice that answers -
What are the words whispered?
Do remembrances slice you?
Does the past pass through?

When your march reaches the coast
Remember the sugar loaf we crave and salt wind we kiss
Open onto the waves as they slam the cliffs
What rain do you expect?
How long can you last?

Face prospects and not the past in this moment!
I've heard of a place other than this one
Found that when the words escape
You may know only that you are lost.
Call it by the first name that comes

Ask, listen, ask again.
Consider the answer to be your first step.


September, 2006

Don't Tell Me

I made the shape of a small circle with my hands
And placed it to my chest.
Then, I turned to you.
My soul, I said, wears a red jacket
And will come to you from inside here.
You can call it and talk to it if you want.
It knows when and how to come back home.
Go ahead. Try it.

You let your eyes drift to my forehead,
Pulled be close with a tight, white-hand grip,
Then lifted my t-shirt
Tapping me three times in the center of my chest.
These are bones and this is skin and that’s the end.
No, it really works, I said
You said, I’m reading dear.
I paused.
Do you think that I am skin wrapping bones and no more?
Yes dear.

Standing two feet from you
I watched you read.
Yellow light made a ring on the pages of your book.
When two green butterflies
Tumbled airborne from behind my ears.
They flew to you and lit your hair with green and orange.
I had no advice to give you.
Out of love for you I said in my inside voice -

You will have to do the best you can
With what you have.

July 13, 2001