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The Sky Recites a Religion Too
The ocean or continuously flicking those blue rosary beads?
For me it has been the grey and white blots on an ombré sky,
One behind the other as my train of thoughts wander alike:
Blue, purple, red, pink, black and intangible.
My last and first resort to cement my wavering faith
Where I disconnect to connect,
Watching a new different array each day.
The sun still golden offers me a hand, or a little push
To roll the burdensome boulders back up,
To smile until my lip cracks for stars to sink into,
To forgive, to forget and to be able to feel it all.
Brazen stars biting through darkness and light alike.
A half mooned evening reassures my half hearted smile...
I let the sky soak up my evils to unplug from the twilight.
Every dawn and every dusk, the moon sheds dancing dust
As all my sentiments are peeled out of my pastel soul
I lie watching them salsa with the clouds and the translucent moon.
Don’t be fooled about clouds being melt in the mouth;
Heavier than metal bearing secrets
about you, me and the the moon’s dancing dust.
Mostly mesmerizing, always heroically honest.
I, extracting some precedented knowledge; a hungry mud lark
Scavenging in the throat of the Bible held almost an inch above.
Date: 6 April, 2020
Copyright ©
Nia Feren
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