Guest Poet: fey

Our father
who in the name of heaven should call to us but Sister

living somewhere between hiway 85

and kingdom come. she called, trembling. and we

will meet her where

earth as is heaven Three of us united for a day o’er

bread veggies, and rice

our first slumber party in

50 a year. laughing.crying about

food cravings, vacations, illness,

family history, swept secrets, sad eyed

photos

forgiveness

sins talking all at once

listening for once

tapping at gnarled paternal trunks

dreading the dim seeping wound

peeling back bark as night falls

hearing muffled snap of dark sap

lead us into temptation of hatred and anger, incrimination

we coo, a Trinity, we soothe:

delivered from Evil he is no Danger to us now.

for we are

The Power of wind quelled quaking aspens and

The Glory of tall wild grasses.

We keen in a

Hallowed sorrow circle

the plea of

our father a distorted lament

done

forever.

2011

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The Cricket, after Hafiz

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Sutra For Poets Who Would Be Buddhas