~

                  
A stand-up razzes he’s an acrostic.
“Life is a puzzle!”  I am too
much at sixes and sevens
to slapstick  a name.  But I know
this.  We have this Connection
that can heal when we are mad
to think we can heal.   Believe
all that is wanted is to believe
in the healer in and of  us
who when one prays answers
that prayer braids nets that can
hold a world.  Far more
than all our weight combined.     
Like the ant that can’t  move
the rubber tree plant.  Like
a bee that can fly and curse
in buzzes, but that is all.
Takes a bridge, takes a hive.
Heretic-I know not to pray
for things, but to reel close
and Connect.  Help reel those
for whom Pain bears a capital.  
Who are numb from being
knocked flat.  Drag themselves
up, then Pow.  Another loved one
is sick.  The poison we have
allowed to voodoo all
of nature ill has crammed
a coven in a lung.  Conspires to
put a hex on a weak heart.
Pray, pray for the love.  
Please?   Pray I do all I can.
Help this puzzler believe
that together we will find ways
to stop private jetting mavens
who grin out of both sides
as they sow cancer, steal away
the forests, lakes, and animals
that along with us split
like fissioning nuclei without
one another.  The cauldron-stir-
ring, blood-smearing,  global
warming nose-thumbers who hire
yessers to cast spells that boil
jealousy and fear to hate.
Secretly approve of uppers
and tranqs as they Just Say No.   
Pray  as we search for cures
that we give comfort.  Won’t hurt
to conjure dolls that mimic
the worst and stick pins in
the hope the cheshire-grinners
end up hoisted by their own ties.  
{Triple-sixed deals with the yachts.}
Won’t  hurt to give prayer teeth.
Make faith take the stand.

 

(c)  Phyllis Jean Green,  2007