Wednesday, June 2, 2010


Tugging on his sleeve
i take my thumb out of my
mouth long enough to ask
for another kind of comfort
which he must ask father for.
A miracle actually, a big and mighty
sort, rivaling or equal to the Red Sea
splitting or feeding five thousand.
This one needs more than a man
to fix. Two months of black oil
spilling in, out and through the water
main of living, a killing poison
heaving slick, black clad carcasses
one by one and two by two
lay dry caked with sand on
beach slick with tar balls.

This is no ark for the living, but a casket
without a silk lining. Close the lid
we can't look. Wait. Open the lid, please
do! Looking will bring courage to
ask for help supernatural. Someone
bigger, in control, who may choose
to act on our behalf in spite of and
anyways ~ someone who
might choose to grace us. This would
go down in history as a great story too.
Don't you want to be famous once
more, daddy? Can you hear my
plea, feel the tug on your heart?
I don't know this angry part of
you that sits back, looks away.
Show them the you I know.
The one who makes me feel favored.
Protected. Provided for. Helped.
You are I Am. Listen. Hear. Act once

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