Morning glory

in Freewriterslast month

I am in your praise, bird of morning. Your aubade to sky
is the sweetness on my tongue. I find love lost in my bag,

among the missing things. I am in your debt, you little
feather of breath in this morning sun. Do you know how

far i have trudged the mount to reach here? Do you not
hear the roar of rictus i left behind? Down below, there

are knives sheathed in skin, teeth chewing into the
cracked shape of harmattan & they do not listen

anymore. I preached like Noah, my hands raised over
my head, my knees in the thistles, in the thorns. I warned

of the storm but seas are fickle, a flood came instead. It
is desire we campaigned for, flesh & blood thing not this

soul questing to reignite the fire of heaven. O little bird
morning songs, your song has claimed my rotting heart

& there is wine in my blood again. I offer you the
smallness of my spirit & prayer of many seasons. You

are my spirit guide, swallow of this new sunny dawn.
You will lead me into the mists, into the silence that

is God & he will hear my plea for my people, for my
unborn ones, for my lovers. Someone must make him

look beyond before this world
consumes us in its infinite hunger.

Image Credit: Pixabay

Yours always,
Osahon (warpedpoetic)


Hi warpedpoetic,

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