Wood paneling. A photograph
of Jesus at the foot of the bed.
Two windows juxtapositioned
so I can see the woods and star-stained
sky without straining my neck.
Do you think God listens to our prayers
if we pray them backwards?
O Holy Night! This is my childhood.
My black-hooded coat. My blood-nostriled horse.
My dark, winged bird. Which window
shall we fly through-
into the woods or the star-filled skies?
1 comment:
Love your evocations of the inner ways of childhood.
As a child, I thought these were my own strange secrets. You make me wonder if all children share them, or was it just you and me?
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