Telling me what you think of Walking a Cranny Roa
You said it is sometimes the crawling of a snail
on the wall. Other times, it is a bird ceasing to fly
in the midst of thorns but footing along them.
See, we are close enough to fulfillment these days
than prophecy. I am not perfect _ what I called
a stone throw could have been christened Methuselah.
Like a harvested tuber, I’ve tried to wash sands
off my body for God to see my heart.
It is not overrighteousness to want God to see you.
Before now, in the small room grief shared with me,
I’ve called for a sign and got a miracle.
This is to say God doesn’t have to be a bird,
travel through thick clouds to settle me. My grief and anxiety.
I have lost much love loved ones than sweat.
Telling me about what you think of the crampy road
is enough to say you, like me, are anxious.
If there’s a thread-like road, I wouldn’t mind offering
my body to be stretched, the size of human hair.