between sharp teeth
and chapped lips and
overly tired gazes,
i sing a hymn.
not the kind of hymn you'd sing
atop church stairs, under archs,
staring at a god's heart.
not the kind of hymn you'd sing
with a blessing, on your knees,
offering praise and worship.
it's an ugly melody.
with no vibration,
given with sorrow
and begging for peace.
between broken branches
and slithering moss and
running water,
i raise a temple.
not the kind of temple you'd raise
with gold and ivory and guard
with your life.
not the kind of temple you'd adorn
with jewels and sacred love,
offering praise and worship.
it's a stone cairn.
with no comfort,
adorned with blood
and begging for release.
"come forth," i beg, on my knees,
for any beast of the wild that may hear.
"come forth," i wail and writhe, hoping
for any god that may hear.
"come forth, meet me amidst your
home, beneath your enlace.
come forth, be it gentle hold or
clawed and fanged rage."
"come forth, for i grow tired of being.
i beg for the kind darkness to envelop
me and come, welcoming.
i beg, i beg, i beg."
there i sit, staring at the cairn,
staring at my own soul.
will any god hear my prayer?
