Reveries of Longing: Reveries of Longing

Reflections in the City: III

65 5HÁHFWLRQVLQWKH&LW\,,, his eyes aglow with the knowledge of the redeemed, mine closed in remembrance of sore kneecaps bent to pray for wishes that never came true; my grandfather tells me to stop making elixirs out of dreams. i want to tell him i can’t walk on water. never heard of anybody that could except for his savior, but i don’t pray to him either. mostly i want to ask, weren’t you thunderous hurricanes once? an emotional whirlwind from womb to boom your extravagance measured by a little of this but not too much of that because it’s hard when you’re nothing you were meant to be. i know. you could have been sanskrit praying, ramadan fasting, ma’at priesting, but here you are, waiting. prayers are like whispers to the wind, 67 maybe the divine hears but you’d do more as a radioactive cell in the middle of the ocean. nuclear never felt so hallowed until it erupted. but we never say words that are most honest, simply allow dust to gather around syllables caught between the hymn in our throat. ...