A Short Prayer
And an amen.
The pieces and the particles,
My imagination,
Books I’ve read and articles,
And magnification.
As the world spins around,
Gaining velocity,
I keep my feet on the ground,
In reciprocity.
Sometimes my sight is altered,
Conditioned by the classes,
Near to feeling awkward,
Wearing rose-coloured glasses.
We try to fly and falter,
Our wings are much too small,
A condition we can’t alter,
And so, we then stand tall.
And watch the moon at midday,
A sliver in the sky,
And go out of our way,
Even though we didn’t try.
The mirth gives birth to minutes,
Hours turn into days,
As god is my witness,
I hear the words he says.
Whispered in a mountain breeze,
Stencilled on the shore,
A wee whistle in the trees,
In nature, there is more.
Past the last parade of men,
Marching off to war,
A short prayer and an amen,
Nere knows what is in store.
©
David Rudder
2024
Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry.
