Take our shadows, spill our glances,
our arms were never very good at this kind of intercourse,
yet we were forever called to minister to wounded souls . . .
I fear it was not solace our hands really lifted.
We remember our arms raised the crucifix to these strange skies,
and the call we answered was the winsome song of natives . . .
people casually in step with the life
we always claim to refine and charm.
Why must we incessantly think to wrench this trust
into the mysteries of the cross?
I see now the truly wounded souls,
the spirits crying at the horizon,
the tears we once interpreted with our glances --
lord on top of lords, gods everywhere --
were our own . . .
the sighs, our own, but never really tasted,
never sensed . . . tears cavorting like echoes
from our souls wailing across paradise
because we hacked the cross like a sword.
This gold, I know, killed off many tribes,
and our words and prayers destroyed more,
for prayer is truly more deadly, when wielded accidentally,
than any sword lifted in greed,
and now we understand the gods we conquered
were really our own. The gods expelled
from these pyramids were not Aztec at all.
So take our shadows, take our eyes . . .
I am afraid, I am in knowledge, I see
we have already blotted our own sun away
like an unfaithful husband will cajole a prayer.
Ward Kelley is the Assistant Vice President of Logistics for TruServ, the parent company of True Value, Servistar, and Coast to Coast hardware stores. He and his wife now live in the Chicago burbs. They have adopted two daughters, and currently foster three others. Though relatively new to writing, Ward has published 85 poems and stories in print and electronic publications. Recent work has been accepted by Limestone, Potpourri and Skylark. He was recently selected as a featured Poet of the Week on an Internet poetry site, Poetry Super Highway, and chosen as the Featured Poet by the Canadian site, Pyrowords.
