Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature: over 400,000 monthly users

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

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This entry was posted on December 24, 2018 by in Poetry and tagged , , , , , .

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