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.


bird5748526_960_720.jpg
Image Credit: Pixabay


Yours always,
Osahon (warpedpoetic)

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Hi warpedpoetic,

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