Thursday, September 28, 2023

Open Wound


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



1 comment:

  1. I can hear the bone deep fatigue here, Susie, from warrioring for so long and needing to warrior still. The spoon "that feeds me another hour of prayers unanswered" really hits the heart. I am so sorry for all you are going through.