don’t get carried away by this

 

stability is a coin toss away
he said, but magical thinking
went the way of daisy heads for me
when i stripped feelings petal by petal
hoping he did love me–
much easier to ask the man
instead of a daisy

and who needs magic when
if you give me 59 small stones for my pocket
i will skip prayers across my creek
for you in whispers.

that’s my faith–
not in any bald flower
but in stones and things harder than stone;
casual, common, and grounded
knowing pebbles can be a rosary
and prayer is not just inside a voice,
but in the skipping over.

 

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About Susan L Daniels

I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
This entry was posted in New Free Verse, Religion and Spirituality and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

21 Responses to don’t get carried away by this

  1. jmgoyder says:

    You are so prolific! Amazing writing – I love it!

  2. BroadBlogs says:

    Wow! Beautiful shifts in imagry.

  3. Green Speck says:

    “Prayer is not just inside a voice, but in the skipping over.” Loved this poem !!!

  4. Seb says:

    Stones and creeks are a risky combination – they must be some powerful whispers!

  5. mimijk says:

    “Skip prayers across my creek” – your poetry is so evocative and real..It’s a pleasure to visit you every day..

  6. nelle says:

    Another good one. Just when I find a line I like, another rolls into view.

  7. Beautifully composed, Susan. I will skip prayers across my creek for you in whispers. I can hear that. More than hear–I can feel it.

    • Oh, George–again thanking you. I am not sure where this came from (are we ever?), but I did like so much the idea of skipping prayer for someone/anyone who asks.

  8. Beautifully written.

  9. Rhonda says:

    As a child growing up skipping stones, I often wondered about the ones that made it all the way across…know I know where they went. They ended up in the pocket a poet to be whispered again to the other side, only this time on a wing and a prayer. Love this

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