Sand is Blessing, Wind is Prayer  [Back]
      
                              
sand grinds through the pore
scours the channel and empties the bell
nothing rings here except wind
of grains edging against each other
and the glass of your perfect smooth hands
cupped to receive blessing or offer prayer

sand is blessing    wind is prayer
but you hold neither for long in outstretched palms
and fingers dangling torn roots
suturing the wound of sky and earth
cracked bells    and scars of twins
separated at birth and rebirth

I draw spirals in a blue bowl of sand
waiting for fire to weep glass
and fuse edges we dare not touch
heat melts and time cools
opaque to transparent    fluid to solid
pure as a bead of sweat between your breasts

wind hisses forty years and sand effaces
every trail dragging from hoop
to busted hoop    if wind was moon
its horns would pierce the blue and bleed
sand from your cupped holy hands
into my cracked and waiting lips


© 1994 
   by Richard Todd