Notes on Intercessory Acts
Whispers of breeze,
Screams of rushing currents,
Chattering of rain
Became subliminal codes
Revealed as silent epiphanies.
If the Divine was a flame ever-burning,
The Light was a lamp guiding you
Through the midnight of the soul.
In your self-secluded pleas,
heart tore at strands of faith;
mind became an unlatched anchor
Drifting you further away.
& while your beloved reposed
like an empty shell,
Their life-lines charted crooked
paths across sealed eyes.
Stroking your poisoned scalp
I watch for memories of
silk, scarlet locks
By the wet, leaping dance of lake waters,
we wrote our futures in the air.
Silence doesn’t show itself in a vacuum;
it must be fashioned and embraced.
We built and accepted this stillness,
siting before a peeled-paint, crimson porch,
a tree bowing over moss-hued lily pads,
dressed in bark brown and mint green
and a motionless fish torn open from within.
I wondered then if you knew, or cared,
as you sat there in a wheelchair and brace,
that I spent last night with your best friend;
as if the pain of injury, aborted aspirations
and a six month rehab stint felt like death
enough at age eighteen.