To Angry Prayers

This cascade of fragmented fear
wanders into the building
with another weapon I didn't expect
and, as you might imagine,
this bloody scene
winnows away all
my peace of mind.

I cannot meander quietly
festooned with an absent smile
while the thundering skies break
into gunshots and sirens.

I have traipsed on a prayer
that was once a supple friend
in hands holding beads
in a sacred space
and instead have thrown them all
into the crevasse of pain
and slippery suffering.

I will cut my hair
with the thresher's blade,
my tresses dropping
to the cold floor
in the harvest
of so much grief
and disbelief.