The Intermediary

The Intermediary
 
The one who works
as priestess,
her eyes are open
but she doesn’t see.
Her arms scoop
upward, holding
an empty net.
At her feet
are all earth’s gifts
spilled out.
 
To pray in these times
is to cut the net
away from a bird
ensnared, away
from wrapped-tight
flowers, from hope.
Cut away, and lift
your empty arms.
 
S. Robbins, July 2020, from Readings

Category: Poems, series    

1 Comments on “The Intermediary”

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