Pieces of Prayers (36)

This is another poem by the wonderful Brian Francis!! Enjoy people… (commentary by michelle, the grrrreat!)

Pieces of Prayers

At the water, waiting for the night to creep in.
A thief tucking away
daylight, carrying it off.
Seldom does this sun set on sins unrepented.

It collapses in my hands.
All of it.
Those same hands that reach for you,
that scribbled love notes on parts
I know you hated most
so you knew I loved you exactly
the way you were.

Hands that shake when the world rages.
Looking for something to grasp -
your hand,
a convenient excuse to run
when it gets too much.
I look at
younger versions of myself
wondering where it went.

I knew it was fragile – always did.
Never thought that the pressure would have me
chewing my own tongue to the point where
you caught pieces in your palm.
Pieces of prayers that I couldn’t rush
out of me fast enough.

Floodwaters capsize the little man in
a rowboat cursing the shooting stars
the gypsies rode in on.
So much so it tenses my body to fits             and god-
she’s having trouble with translations.
I told you that there was no place
I’d rather be
and left.

I never knew a monster like those 6 months.
Belly swollen with
boogiemen and butterflies.
My barbwire beauty
marks the spot
where the path was forked.
The weight sits heavy inside.
Obstinate. Swelling.
Tears echo behind eyes-
I lose words
seizing the day.

Ashes to ashtrays
Upturned.
Dusk to dusty back roads
where a story in a dingy sack
slung over shoulder is dragged.

Put to rest at the riverbed.
Washed free.
Test the water with your toes.
Walk away washed
with parts of me
still choking on I’m sorry.
You are a story I cannot complete.

I stole another moment and keep it
shiny and new in my pocket.
It hangs from a silver chain around my neck.
I recite it every night with the prayers Gretel taught me.
I take time with this prayer.
I let it come naturally.
It means too much not to get it right.

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