by Kirk Stone
I wept for days, and the tears I wiped
became shimmering beads.
But now I see your hard blessing.
I’ve taken my time, Lord,
and passed through my house
touching each separate thing. And outside,
my bare feet brushed the grass to gold.
My hands brought the webs to fine wire.
My hands were the sun,
and I kissed my daughters and saved them.
Give me the full measure of your gift, Lord,
for doesn’t the air, too, touch me,
even now, as the soft cloth of it
slips through my fingers?
Bring down the sky around me
like a cloud of fire,
like a luminous mist,
until nothing moves but the sun.
Published on August 8, 2019