Wordsmith's Prayer

Wordsmith’s Prayer (11th March 2009)

I thought that language was common, something we shared
But the words that leave your lips, they sound like prayer;

In ivory cascades, you flutter down the page;
Undisturbed silence all that greets the things you say;

Unwind the cords, those stretched voices that bind;
Undo the ties, those promises that blind;

Unleash into the dark those dulcet sounds;
Release your ark, and save all those that drowned;

There is no death, only absence of life;
There is no truth, only absence of lies.

You say that Jesus is the only one that saves;
A sacrifice: watch me step out into the waves;

Walking on surfaces was never my forte;
I sink into the storm; an angel kneels to pray.

Where does one story end, the next begin?
Blacken your door with my pathway of sin;

You shape your words to fit around my life,
Hold out your hands, palm up to bear the knife;

Ashes from fire, and blood to wash the shore,
Your lips in constant motion, as before;

My humble lines lie lost and crumpled at your feet;
What is the cost? Your laments go on as I still bleed.

Where does one story end, where does the next begin?
Pour water, ashes, blood and words over my sin;

I’ll bathe in language as if it’s something we share;
I’ll offer up my humble words to join yours, bare.

Rewind the cords, those voices will be bound;
Redo the ties, those promises abound;

Call back from the dark those violent sounds;
Capture your ark, care not for those that drowned;

There is no life, just an absence of death;
There are no lies, just truth still unconfessed.