Wednesday, February 28, 2024

the prayer.

 


daybreak has crept through

open window screens to cling to shadows,

linen curtains puff gently against the 

promise of springtime, and I pray to the

moment through my cool, naked skin


will this estrangement ever fold 

its strong arms around this body, kiss 

my aging belly and guide strands of soft hair 

away from my face, and I pray with 

grace to continue to breathe, breathe


have I ever truly encountered myself with 

the fervor of newfound love, commitment of 

starlings in early season migration, a playlist

curated though late night atmospheres of 

smoke and solitude, have I ever held myself 


gently, with the trust I have gifted men,

whispered in my ear of the years I have

captivated my own heart, granted the beauty of

devotion despite hopeless pain, how much blind

faith I have invested in each dawn



© 2.28.2024 heather brager


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