A night sky forces light from landscape, crushed blackberries molded into geographical

silhouettes. The streetlights hover over us, each illuminating a sunset cracking from a

dragon egg.

 

The front window weeping with veils of water, I put my hands together, capturing any God

I can within the valley of my naked palms.

 

Prayer, the art of returning to a God when you need someone to stay alive.

 

Or maybe it’s just me, maybe I pray to put responsibility in someone else’s clumsy, clumsy

hands.