This is a prayer
whose words have been
drowned out
in the maelstrom.
This is a song
whose melody
has been shattered
by the strike
of iron on iron.
This is a dance
whose movements
have been bound
and tied,
and broken.
These are words
that may never
be heard.
Spoken in the morning,
before the humdrum world
imposes its subtle tyrannies,
overt anarchies,
split the lips
and the song goes running.
Ill equipped
to resist
the maxim of the influencers.
Holding back
used to be discretion,
but now,
it is considered rude.
Spitting the syllables out,
like shards of broken teeth.
A little blood
on the corner of the mouth
reveals you
every time you speak
these holy words
that used to be
a cornerstone.
Now, we can unearth their meaning,
salvage their intent
from the ruins
of a collapsed structure.
How suitable
is it to even try
to speak to God
these days?
This is a promise
broken before it was spoken.
This is a lullaby
sung in the morning light.
This is a race
won by the abstinent.
This is a war
no one will ever fight.
All things have a place
in this existence,
even those that have trouble
existing at all.
HG – 2022
