The day the sky died
and I did not
swayed like a flag
of no country
five pure lights strung
by a thread
yellow
green
red
white
blue
left to right, higher than heaven
flag-fanned breath
soft utterances
flagrant as prayer
hurled from
meager hands
The day the sky died
did I not
feel the loosed leaves
the letters
the bled ink
the litmus of prayers
lose the wind's momentum
and crumple
like a pillared horse
to his knees?
The day the sky died
did it die for everyone
to pocket Earth
one handful of dirt
at a time?
Did I not
from the walls of canyons
hear the wailing dogs
matterhorning anguish
the litanies of loss?
Did I not
see a skylark rise
Lung ta flutter of white butterfly
from the wasteland
a rope of dandelion
anchors flung
vows without words
lilting like lullabies?
Written in collaboration with Brendan Bonsack
By Brendan Bonsack and Reka Jellema
July 2014
and I did not
swayed like a flag
of no country
five pure lights strung
by a thread
yellow
green
red
white
blue
left to right, higher than heaven
flag-fanned breath
soft utterances
flagrant as prayer
hurled from
meager hands
The day the sky died
did I not
feel the loosed leaves
the letters
the bled ink
the litmus of prayers
lose the wind's momentum
and crumple
like a pillared horse
to his knees?
The day the sky died
did it die for everyone
to pocket Earth
one handful of dirt
at a time?
Did I not
from the walls of canyons
hear the wailing dogs
matterhorning anguish
the litanies of loss?
Did I not
see a skylark rise
Lung ta flutter of white butterfly
from the wasteland
a rope of dandelion
anchors flung
vows without words
lilting like lullabies?
Written in collaboration with Brendan Bonsack
By Brendan Bonsack and Reka Jellema
July 2014
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