Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Carry me

I wake up to
the morning prayer-
Four plastic beads run through my hands
I chant
Carry me to your high walls
Carry me to your holy lit face
Carry me to safety

Where have I gone?
I never lost my foot before
my hands no longer grip
My ashen face, blurred eyesight do not promise
an easy explanation
I last recall
It was a bend near the road
Between the dough smelling morning baker
and the glistening twilight
instead of the sun, darkness descends once more
Carry me to your high walls
Carry me to safety

and when the darkness descends
It seems I met with a blaze, I met with the morning flames
 my body receives a living cremation
The beads roll, each sprinting into a different direction
North of the walls
east of the holiness.

I can see my mother,
ripping out her hair, wailing
my sister couldn't stand on her two feet
now they- my father and two young brothers
draped in darkness, void of human color
carry me
to the high walled, marble based tower
bellow soil
they all wipe tears as they
carry me towards your holy face
carrying me to the hands of safety
by the vigil of candle light, a sprinkled rosary
and the evening call for prayer.

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