A bonfire day, my prayers are gone.
The paper crackled, seared.
My words in flame,
The pages curl,
And all my thoughts are charred.
But still You hear them, give me peace,
Come by my side and stay.
I feel Your touch.
You seek, console
And help me find my way.
You hold my soul between Your palms.
If palms You have, and slow
My breath with love.
I thank you, Lord
For calm when moonbeams glow.
My new words will be few and slant,
No one to wound but me.
So slight in heart
And deed am I,
A kernel naught can see.
I once was hurt, or twice or thrice.
Or more? But who needs know?
If words are kept
From pen and ink
Are thoughts denied their flow?
Will memories un-remembered be?
Kept at a cost no more?
Nor read at cost?
Nor burned at cost?
No ruminations soar?
Does anyone know more than I
That words are not unpled?
Words take you to
A railroad track.
(But wait, no facts, I said.)
Forget it slant, nay live it slant.
Sand clean your mind; it's done.
Do not crush love,
Do not soil love.
(This could be anyone.)
by nina naomi
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