O Great Consoler of spiking rage O Wounded One tenderized like meat come graft me into the marrow of your pain that I might not be lost to my grief. O Mixer of Medicines savory on my tongue O Gardener of the body divine come sift me through the wisdom of your pestled leaves that I might warm at the press of your fingers. O Great Sounder woofing o’er the hills O Berry-Throated bleating in the fields come shake out the needles of dread staking claim that I might wear your wailing as a mercy. O Bender of Branches crafting opportunity O Carved Limb of oak taking shape come smile from the mantle of my stocking-dripped longing that my heart might be drawn with your image. O Bringer of Blankets slaking deep shivers O Cradler of Sleeping Ones not waking come shock me with your slow walking that I might know the brevity of weaker spells angling for the spotlight. O Consumer of Creeping Things coiled in the shadows O Sieve of Waking Schemes squeezed through cheesecloth come crush the jaw of the serpent’s maw that I might not sink beneath its bite. O Bountiful Baker stretching and kneading O Maestro forming risen lumps of dough come flour the surfaces never letting go that I might mark my failings with release.
Beautiful!
Thank you for reading, David, I am glad you encountered my work as "beautiful."
I was very touched by this today. Thank you!