In Progress by Opalina Salas
oh lord
what ever lord resides in me
in the flower
in the sitting Buddha
the fountain
and the feather
oh lord
when will you take
your wounded mad children in your arms
and love them?
when will arms outside of arms
of the Goddess Durga in you
come blue handed to feed them clouds
for supper
bring home the creatures
and bathe them in salt tears and
cleanse the pain?
i’m jaded from the insomnia
and the phone calls
and the heartache of a million unsung decisions.
oh lord
whatever lord resides in me
grant me the peace that comes in the mornings
city rumblings
and the promise of pianos
erasing all the madness in
plinkering plustered notes
grant me the wisdom to know
the answers to their questions
when i haven’t any
when it isn’t there
and the fitful night of sleep
brings no closure.
we bring on nightmares of fiery crashes
last words said
pain and monotony of never saying so
never letting go
oh lord!
wild lord of howling branches
Posada cadever dreams, dead roses and playing cards dealt
with belts of dusty cobweb clich├ęs
“get off the road”
“do you want me to come get you?”
“im sorry”
“i don’t know why he did that”
“shut up. shut up”
and what lord is this?
and why do i come from such ungodly ways?