BY AVELLINA BALESTRI

Let me catch the flame,

Golden, glittering, glaring,

So my fingers may glow as I hold the pen.

Let me taste the wine,

Sweet, smooth, sumptuous,

So my speech may be seasoned when I tell the tale.

~

Let me smooth the cloth,

Crumpled, crude, queer-colored,

So beauty and grace may greet each eye.

Let me weave with thread,

Silver, star-lit, spider-spun,

So my words may flow like a moon-kissed stream.

~

Let me glimpse the ghosts,

Fast-footed, fair-faced, fleeting,

So my blessing may reach them as eyes meet eyes.

Let me climb the chain,

Twinkling, taught, tenacious,

That connects the present with the haunted past.

~

Let my arrow fly,

Straight-shot, shimmering, shocking,

To cleave each heart for the sake of truth.

Let my harp strings sound,

Merry, moaning, murmuring,

So all may partake in the moods of life.

~

Let me feel the drum,

Pulsing, pounding, puncturing,

So my voice may serve as a battle-horn.

Let my cry be heard,

Ringing, roaring, raging,

Above the din of battle and through the soul.

~

Let me harvest jewels,

Unicorn-horns, sword-hilts, Christ’s hem,

And lay them out in story and song.

Let it so be done,

Soulfully, sacrificially, sanctifyingly,

So that life may infuse death-darkened eyes.