Prayer
My lord, when even the crescent moon Has failed me, when it hasn’t returned Like the first boomerang ever thrown, When everything familiar is far And unfamiliar for being far, When the night is nothing more than An immense absence, the stars mere holes In an overturned sieve, when the beloved Loves another, when the fathers’ voices Are taut as strung wire, when the mothers’ Faces pale with worry, when the sons And daughters decide not to call, when All colors are tuned down like instruments To be shipped, when the soles are worn Down by exile’s miles, when the fingers Go numb with cold, when the pickup won’t Turn over, when the wiring in the mind sparks And smolders, when the photograph replaces The world then fades, when the trees You slept under have been felled, when The place you love burns or floods, Lord when All looks lost will you touch my shoulder Once and when I turn towards you Will you show me some new wonder?