Prayersticks
GiaB writing prompt #14 being in nature
I walk into the woods to cast prayers for you,
you beyond the realm of form.
Embracing indigenous ritual, I divine living dirt
unearth a hollowed space. It leads me
to you dying in your sleep. Tears, like fast
erosion, swallow my intentions. I hear the earthworms
making waste beneath a rock’s resting side.
Curious witnesses watch. Emptied, I kneel
in dead leaves digging with my hands to clear
the perfect place to place your prayersticks.
You are fixed now beneath the chant
of river melodies. Suck the finished wind in, hold
humid air beside my unstrung heart then forget
to breathe again. Memories fill
this hole, our story spills around me.
Our union is put to sleep and I can’t stop
dreaming your songs. At night, your voice wakes me
and I hear no lyrics I can’t recall. I feel you singing
like a mighty river, pouring your music on me like touch.
At dusk, I plant these yellowed vines, dressed
in ribbons of fear and yarns of remembrance
beneath the cold black loam, this winter’s only wealth.
There, in this ground, our seasons will compost.
I want you to see me, calmed, my heart wrapped
around these roots as I graft our family’s tender tree
to the wild vines. Gleanings from our life fertilize
the hungry shoots that carry my future skyward.
Slicing silverwhite clouds, sleek blackbirds, authentic
watchers, caw into the wind. In their throats, your final amen.
