Intercession
Sept 24 2023
I can see why the ancients
prayed for spring.
As the days shorten
and darkness descends
like a heavy shroud,
creeping steadily
down over our eyes,
why wouldn't winter
feel like death?
Of light.
By starvation.
Through the freezing cold.
The season of eternal rest
at the mercy of the elements.
So when the snow eventually melts
if winter ever ends
frozen bodies will emerge,
bones appear
without a scrap of meat left,
blood glisten
still bright as when it was shed.
They implored their gods
to help them survive,
and now we, their descendants
are also imbued with faith,
selected
by the cruel reckoning
of the living and the dead.
Even heretics like me
who scoff at superstition
sometimes pray.
Just as atheists in foxholes
hug the ground
heads down
and take His name in vain;
out in the cold
exposed
when any shred of hope
will do.
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