Messages...

MESSAGES

A fold of paper
holds my prayer.
I find my niche
in the crumbling stone.
My message is tucked
into a fracture.

Walls shield temples
and bells in the wind
offer the reassurance
of God listening.

Just as fountains receive
the coins of return,
slivers chip off
the archeology of walls
to become the sands of time.

A compelling question
once was clutched
in the hand of a maiden.
She slipped her prayer
under a rock.

Did she get the life she pleaded for,
or did she get a life of plagues?

But that was a thousand years ago,
how can it matter now?

I pray for blessings,
I pray for the maiden,
as I slip my fate
between the stones.


@copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2010


http://www.minblu.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/lynxny

Haiti...

HAITI/ QUAKE/ 2010
X
Pulled down to earth, beneath the ground
smashed to gravel,
are you walking, are you sinking?
x
Does your body draw away
from your dusty breath
to split this minute from forever?
x
Yet your skin is flowing red,
you see your life walk the edge,
as a villain seems to press
his hand against your mouth.
x
Try going back to live your hope,
calling out,
will I be alive?
Still the crimson flows.
x
You are grey without your soul.
Have you faith that you exist
when it seems as if you don't?
x
You learn quickly in this place
where a quake has pushed you down
to inhabit an abyss.
x
You've little time to decide
if you're dead or yet alive.
And now you'll try
to take a walk
through shattered stone.

@copyright/ all rights reserved
x
http://www.minblue.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/lynxny