prayers in rough wood

My prayers in rough wood
are strung up with twine and hope,
spiral like incense
to an unhearing heaven,
float back to the ears of men

Who with gentle hands
unfold my finger-petals,
suck out from cupped palm
the splinters of unborn dreams,
catch the bleeding dew of faith.

This poem has been re-posted from its original appearance in Poets for Tsunami Relief, a blog-zine by twitter-friend and colleague Heather Grace Stewart. In keeping with the original intent of the poem, and the publication, I ask that you please consider contributing to relief funds through the Red Cross by clicking on this link or texting (details here). Peace and love,    —jsl