Supplicant

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Do we know what we commit when we pray?
I’m uncertain

Questions, I know I need
After asking for comfort from the One who commands the stars and could right-well hand them to me
Am I earnest enough?
Am I faith-filled?

Is this ignorance or freedom?
What says my soul?

Child

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No reason my heart ought beat
No logic

Save you, who saves me

From nothingness, thinks me something
From absence, brings me present

No reason, no logic
But perfect sense

First Of All

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I am not God
But I know a truth
So I will say what

Let us recreate Woman
What the divine image!
Be she blessed

Let us grant her dominion
See these creatures
In need of a fruitful goddess

Let us know her abundance
Let us call her good
Let us rest

wife of his youth

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Do you remember, before you were born, child, how I was sad a lot, for I, back then, was always the other?

While he, in utmost civil tongue, talked and laughed hard with others and shouted and murdered and silenced the me

I talked to you, “It is okay.” and God would keep us and we three would always, always, always have eachother

God danced with us and I with you when no one else would dance with me…there was always and always another

Remnants

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This is my own tragedy
This telepresence, of sorts
I, loving you

Self-created, for my imagination is that of a girl reading far too many fanciful tales of interplanetary affection and of camel-led caravans of the Orient
The dust of this all still surrounds me

Something I alone permit
Against God’s will,
I believe in you