Prayer on the Road

Hazing back the thorny branches
blood slices out from under our covers;
when the sun sets too deep
at the back end of our eyes...
who are you, and who am I
to be found wanting, on
this road alone,
may we all find our true home.

In the able hands of dreaming come I.
In the gleam of a broadbent
sits the shards of star,
of scattered memory.

Begging me to put it out of its misery.

~ M. Lucia