Caesura -

My fingers are white like whispers

and the lips that consume them are flames

for lack of better things to set on fire.

My knees are red like rumors

from this gossip with the floor.

I haven’t moved in half an hour.

Spirit come down,

show us your power!

Spirit come down,

show us your love!

I’d tell You but I’m too afraid

that this night will break into day

and I’ll be here without a word in reply.

And I’d listen but I’m too ashamed

for I know that the answer’s the same

as the last time I refused to get up and try.

My eyes are as blank as bandages

that cover the blood on my hands,

that strangle themselves in despair.

My heart is as gold as a grave

that reshuffles its tenants each day

and You treat me like treasure

when I throw you away.

Turn these silences into

«Father, Father.»