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
