"Wild Prayer" - Ciera Durden
An apology
now starts to form
When I
mention I still believe in something holy.
The
acknowledgement of that week’s list of horrors shared through whatever media
bubbles up,
And I find
myself almost defensive,
Like I’m
protecting a cruel friend.
There is
always the “despite of” that comes before
Explaining
how I can still feel the divine
Run up the
hidden veins in my legs when I touch the earth,
How some
miracle splits the sky open every morning,
Even in the
middle of all this pain.
At this
point, belief is nearly embarrassing,
And I find
myself avoiding prayer because of it.
At this
point, not even sure what method could I cast out into
The great,
wide what-have-you
To be heard.
On hopeful,
naïve days, this scene of confrontation becomes
A quiet
knock on the door
To ask
whomever is crowded in the house of the universe’s center
To come out
for a walk with me
And talk
things over.
“Listen,”
I might
begin,
“You have
done some really beautiful work here.
The cold fog
rising up at dawn saved my life today.
And last
night, I kissed someone who loved me as much as I love her.
I know you
did that,
But why this
mess over here?
Why that
suffering, that grief, that death?”
On other
days, this scene falls apart,
The trap
that prayer
Has never
been a stroll in the park
As much as
it has been tossing coins down the well,
Words
bouncing in cheap copper plinks into the dark mouth
Of something
that only gapes mutely back.
But this too
falls apart
In the
infuriating, but honest moments
When I feel
something did answer back—
In how the
car swerved that day and righted itself,
In the
unexpected but certain press of comfort from a friend long-past,
In how you
and I met that night, despite all of it,
During these
times, I know
Just as I do
not speak every language of every bright soul I meet,
Or
understand immediately what the dog wants
In his
wordless but earnest twitch of body—
Maybe this,
too, shapes differently,
And to
expect what or who made this all,
Every way to
speak, to signal, to reach out and gather,
To answer in
my one, small way
Is not how
any of this works.
This is not
the old excuse—
God works in
mysterious ways—
This is not
the final answer or any answer
To what evil
we all felt yesterday.
This is only
turning everything that the unknown made in me
Back to it
In love, and
in fury,
Prayer a
whole-body experience,
Worship a
life of seeing and seen,
Every breath
a question mark,
Every
gesture a waiting, open hand.
It's time to celebrate fall at October's open mic! Featured will be poet Ciera Durden in a welcome visit back to Athens Word of Mouth.
Ciera has been a member of Athens Word of Mouth since 2011. Currently, she lives in Anderson, SC, and is looking to tap into the poetry scene in the South Carolina area. Her poetry focuses on confessional pieces, as well as themes on sexuality, religion, gender, and mysticism.
Open mic sign-up at the Globe is Wednesday October 3 @ 7 p.m. and readings begin upstairs at 8 p.m. See you there for this special night! [Photo by David Noah]
No comments:
Post a Comment