Summer Prayer

That she might
Steady the mirror.

That she might
Tunnel through
Subterranean blood chambers.

That she might
Be a hillside,
Red berries
Bathing in light.

That she might
Release her winged

That she might
Greet us
With honey wine
And warm our hands.

That she might
Break the long silence.

That she might
Become minute,

That she might
Hold this place.


That we might
Forgive ourselves
And be forgiven.

That we might
Become the wind
And sun flame
Shattering light in leaves.

That we might
Learn to tie
Secret knots
To hold bone to bedrock.

That we might
Find the right words
And offerings.

That we might
Celebrate something
As enduring,
As changeful
As a summer sky.


Our time
For finding,
For fixing,
Grows short.

We are bones
Bleached on the prairie
And hidden under bindweed.
Hollow sockets pursue
Swallows in acrobatic

We are a bruised road,
And bending back homeward.

We are moments
That cannot be captured
Or unmade.

We are fools
Pulled by the tide
And the moon.

But it will pass.
And we must
Let it pass.

However delicately
We might touch it
Or brush against it,
There is no preventing
Its breaking.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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