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Faith Always Intervenes
Angst wraps me in a fabric of ashen twigs
on this near treacherous waning eve
as orchids lay beneath viscous rain ,
I feel distanced from the elements of earth
while stars blink wearily my hands can no longer grasp:
O forbearance come at once
be the thread binding me until
wind- brushed air cuddles my arms
through pour of incandescent dew ;
if only to taste that resurrected light
yearning for my son's homecoming from a battlefield so grim
when this unbearable pang gives way
to a final sweep of one victorious return...
Morning then, please, glimmer through me divine strength , a belief
allowing intervention of ardent faith...
this miracle I claim in trust,
as my heart waits and waits-- until.
Copyright ©
Nette Onclaud
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