New day

We are made of flesh: 
                 pink and unseen.   

Hands pressed together in prayer, 
lips sealed shut, eyes closed, 
fetal and kneeling.  

Tender and raw:
           to be human is to wait for morning, 
                                               
to collect mason-jars 
and save them for a rainy day, 
to watch them fill up with sky-water.

I found my heart in the cloudy sunrise
and the fresh touch of a downpour, 
cascading with my blood-river.