Poetry by Cunningham

You can only pray what’s in your heart
so if your heart is being ripped from your chest
pray the tearing
if your heat if full of bitterness
pray it to the last dreg
if your heat is a river gone wild
pray the torrent
or a lava flow scorching the mountain
pray the fire
pray the scream in your heart
the fanning bellows
pray the rage, the murder
and the mourning
pray your heart into the great quiet hands than can hold it
like the small bird it is.

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