The sun rises
with its murder of crows,
and I fight the spoon
that feeds me another
hour of prayers unanswered.
Is there a god who doesn’t
bind me to a hymn that
sings only heaven will
bring freedom?
The gravel beneath my feet
never grows softer.
My spirit is too raw to
even form a scar.
I’ve bled my heart into
journal pages, carried matches
to light candles that never stay lit.
I’m so weary I’ve grown deaf
to my bones begging me to rest.
I fear I’m becoming as silent
as those I thought would speak.
Susie Clevenger 2023