LET THE CONCRETE BE LIKE FEATHERS
It's hard to imagine being swallowed by your home.
Betrayed by the bricks and mortar that each month your torn hands paid for.
That the earth can split.
Heavy on Richter Scale, rip heart and home in simultaneous seconds.
Tonight we pray for Haiti
Question God agnostic
go to bed exhausted
Beared witness but forgotten by dawn
It's hard to reconcile.
I heard stories of an old man singing gospel songs to his wife
while she bled to death for 3 nights on asphalt 50 feet from hospital doors.
Sang teardrop notes of the sacred and prolific.
Tonight, I will sleep tempurpedic.
Whisper haikus to sheep on moons
Like a log. Like a Baby. Save me.
Shield my ears from the prayers of dying fathers.
Let the concrete be like feathers
Let the rebar grow like ivy
Unlock kryptonite vaults and let Superman rewind time.
Tonight, we pray for Port-au-Prince
To at the same time respect and forget the physics of flesh.
of Gods and monsters.
of moments of godlessness.
of satellite images taking souls to heaven and returning them via television sets.
Tonight, boats will return to the Haitian harbors to retrieve the bloated bodies of toddlers and I'm red crossing my heart.
Hoping that pulses can be heard through the pilings.
That we will be surprised by the masses that forever mantra “I survived this”
Indeed, tonight we pray for Haiti
That the waking rise.
That the fault lines sleep.
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