A Poem For Sunday


Another poem from Killarney Clary:

I want a solution. So, “God,” I pray, “finish this one un-
wavering note, at any cost, song or silence.”  I’m afraid
I don’t care; afraid someone might find out even in my
sore the wrinkle continues, the same future.  God’s familiar
with my tricks—precise requests, then total surrender–,
familiar with tomorrow, too, and my billion dreams.  He
will forgive me them, but forgiveness  is an added step.

I want to see the air itself dissolve, the colored powders
which are you or me scatter and fade, and no, I don’t care
for another try. It is kindness that puts the world in my
hands for me to hate; fortune that opens the surface which
is, after all, beauty.

I’m sure there are endless reasons and answers, methods
by which I might change. Give them to someone who deserves
them along with my good luck and what “science”
can put to use.

(From Who Whispered Near Me © 2013 by Killarney Clary. Used by kind permission of Tavern Books, Portland, Oregon. Photo by Flickr user T1m0thy77)