who would believe they could be
beautiful who would believe
they could fall so in love with mortals
that they would attach themselves
as scars attach and ride the skin
sometimes we hear them in our dreams
rattling their skulls clicking their bony fingers
envying our crackling hair
our spice filled flesh
they have heard me beseeching
as I whispered into my own
cupped hands enough not me again
enough but who can distinguish
one human voice
amid such choruses of desire
--Lucille Clifton (1936-2010), African American poet, author, and teacher, three time Pulitzer Prize nominee and winner of the National Book Award for Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems 1988-2000.
beautiful who would believe
they could fall so in love with mortals
that they would attach themselves
as scars attach and ride the skin
sometimes we hear them in our dreams
rattling their skulls clicking their bony fingers
envying our crackling hair
our spice filled flesh
they have heard me beseeching
as I whispered into my own
cupped hands enough not me again
enough but who can distinguish
one human voice
amid such choruses of desire
--Lucille Clifton (1936-2010), African American poet, author, and teacher, three time Pulitzer Prize nominee and winner of the National Book Award for Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems 1988-2000.
Scripture reference: Psalm 130, Lent 5A
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