My Poems

For many months now
I keep writing of
Poems.
Finding them
Scattered rocks
Upon riverbeds
In my children's eyes
Through glass
Finding me fragile, a small window
And breaking in.

They have shattered me.
Lifted me.
Challenged me.

Loved me.

Poems,
Upon waters
Rising for air
Breathing, and
Breathing for me.

I have thanked them
These winged songs,
Floating inside my nights
Asking me
For no repair,
Just,

To listen,
Like a Father.

To forgive,
Like a child.

I have placed them gentle
To paper nests,
Held them up by tears
Folding darkness into light, into
Darkness again.

They find me
Alone
To tell me
I am not.

It is not I
Who has given them life.
It is they who have
Given life to me.
Cradled me.
Stirred me.
Called me.

Forgiven me.

Imperceptibly,
A moment or a month.
Or flowing through
All my life

Rivers unknowing
Then, rains
Falling,
Rising waters to
Knowing.

My poems are not
Poems.

They are simply -
Prayers.

Praying for me
When I
Could not pray.

Living for me
When I could
Not live.

Forgiving me
When I could not
Forgive.

My poems are
Prayers,
Air of my soul
Meant to be written,
To love
And then,
To give away.

Amen.