Susan Sonde: Random Motion

Lord, pledge all Your juices. I come alone tonight

and solitude narrates what my voice sees

in the klieg lights of December. The earth evolves

.

under its belt of stars, the milk of stars depleted.

A crust of ice forms over a molten sea and I walk

through the white flames of mist, soft as bread

.

on this night rinsed with the scent of burning tapers.

Do I shake in these public times, glance too furtively,

aware of exposure’s consequence?

.

I walk and watch the cars. I do not hold the memory

of love. Love does not moisten my heart. Lord, take me

in Your mouth, raise me up. Kiss my eyes as I lift my

.

head to the wind, to the arrival of strangers,

a noisome choir. Life, the republic of life,

does not bring me back from the dust of its bosom.

.

My imperfections deny my worth. Beasts prosper

in the vestibule of night. But You, Lord, pierce the house

of my body. Clasp Your fingers over the torn flesh

.

of our mutual wound.

Copyright 2018 Susan Sonde