I
write now after all these years I
Never
let go these sacred images
God’s
thick fingers and gnarled knuckles
Flecked
with the scars of my teeth
The leathery tan of those hands
Both
equally cankered by violence and not
A
single day of tenderness they ever had
God
please hear this song that I sing
So I may close my tent to abominable
Stars
of fear quiet as the senseless
Protests
of prey worn and ragged as this
Silly
sonnet breaking the backs of all
The little sparrows between pews
And
altars and those hands that silence bells
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