The wind wants to teach you

“The wind wants to teach you”

 
Tragedy climbs your walls with claws the color of rain.
It does not come alone. It drags that phone call,
another hospital room, pale dread, blowing ash and
forms you do not have the money to fill.
Claw marks trail in a steady dark line,
cracks spread, and you huddle deeper inside the walls
beneath a tattered tarp of prayer.
On the beleaguered battlements of the wall
what will climb up next?
 
You wait. Wait. Wait.
 
Breaking soul, the wind wants to teach you that tragedy cannot fly
and that the sky is still yours.
Your tattered tarp will yet be wings of pearl.
 
Creative Commons License
This work by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Threshold

This poem was written while flying over cities at night on my way home, thinking about how prayer can calm an unquiet mind.

“Threshold”

In the night-cloak of the globe
Cities buzz, aglow.
So little sleeps tonight.
Restless minds drift across screens
or half-formed dreams to arrive
empty at the door to peace.
I can unlock that vault with a whisper to the sky
over hands clasped in the chain of ancient lessons.
I can enter with a slow breath over
the threshold and hide here for the night.
 
 
Creative Commons License
Threshold by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.