Prayers before Faith by Lee Kiblinger

Are prayers before faith phrases falling, 

mist-like, evaporating to the ground—

waves of words echoed empty, hollow, 

voiced but lost, just unheard sound? 

Are cries crammed into cardboard boxes, 

never opened in attics of dust— 

pleas planted as seeds of what-ifs 

in deserts windblown by sandy trust?

Do they move molecular, atoms combining

waiting for rising, concussive heat—

or hang like stars, with hope aligning 

that forecast victory or herald defeat? 

Do they come of age and ripen 

like wild berries full of sweetened juice—

or are words wrapped up, cocoonlike, 

until they warm, and then fly loose?

Their holding pattern is a mystery,

Still their wonder will incubate— 

past utterance to future litany,

learned, rehearsed after timeless wait.

Lee Kiblinger is from Tyler, Texas and lives with her three beautiful teenagers and husband of over twenty years. She teaches high school literature and composition and currently spends her free time writing poetry.