Thursday, September 3, 2015


I can feel your prayers
as if the words were Ghostly
gossamer threads we
both are tied by,
shaking at the slight touch
of a hand.

Somehow we know, though we don't
know how to traverse this wet web,
those strands which will safely hold us,
those which will catch
our enemies.

Oh, spin -
keep spinning from inside you
silver intercession,
our home
suspended in air.