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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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VIGIL

 

A closer look, no, it is not the moon,

a crescent of candles lit against the dark,

earthbound, grounded among trees and tall buildings.

Shining heads, red, brown, and black bowed silent.

Shadows stand within the light, clustered together,

cast off like quick breaths that rise toward the sky.

Wax hardens and light shudders, but does not go out.

 

Where do the prayers go? Do they linger?

Creep back inside, murmuring

just beneath heartbeats? Embark on

long journeys across salt water fields,

resting in chimneys and children’s shoes?

 

Hurry, whisper while you can,

the wind is preparing to sound.

Faces lift, eyes open, shadows move.

A small gust, and they’re gone, taking

the light with them.

 

—Brianna J. Pike