Distilled Hope

Friday Aug 192016 004

The evening and the morning, are one and the same-

beckoning my loins to pray.

And yet a little while – our bodies exude a mist of metaphysical liberation

with limits because we have forgotten our tongues, uttering the essence of being.

My knees are wrapped in the riverbeds in the east

stroked by lightning, caressed by thunder, the angel passes by

I’m encouraged to believe these storms aren’t man-made.

The old men on corners, the children refused to play.

And yet for a little while, I beseech the one who made the skies.

The one who transforms rain to fire.

The one who gives inspiration.

The one who plants cellular bones in the womb.

The one who knows the seven wonders of the earth.

It’s the only one who listens when I pray….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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10 thoughts on “Distilled Hope

  1. Love this! There’s something about this line in particular: “And yet for a little while, I beseech the one who made the skies.” It’s like a little poem unto itself, as if you could breathe it in and find calm. Another gem! Peace & Blessings, Ruth

  2. You as well — guess I didn’t know your name. I was called Christy or Chrissy growing up because my first name was “foreign-sounding ” to teachers in school (it’s Norwegian)

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