Wipe away the tears from my eyes, cast not a shadow nor light on my private grief. Rise oh man, rise and lift me as you float to the above. Carry me, bestow me. The angels knew and said nothing in this field of such desire and many stones.

I knew that pain, I felt that desire, and I speak that truth. Oh star field, tell me your stories and may I understand the nature of this darkness so that I can feel the grace of first light.

Know me so that I can see you. Let that sight reveal and in that unveiling show me what I’ve always desired and feared to touch. Touch me, envelop your hand within the folds of my shoulders, may I bend like grass, folding and unfolding into what I know not. Carry these wounds, mend the flesh that was torn, the bones that were broken, the heart that was stolen and the earth that it was buried in.

You knew me, you have always known me. It was I, that wave beneath the water, that life in ovum, that secret and small pain that pulled at your heels.
It was I.

J.M. Prater