Does the night soar beneath your breath?
Do you yawn to the sun?
It has departed on its pilgrimage to bear witness
To the Gods of whom we boast.
Do you bruise your knees swollen and mauve and
Clasp your exploited hands ‘till dawn?
Do you dream of Him and
Toss and turn in restless reverence ‘till its fruitless return?
The sun has no God to boast of-
It wears the ceaseless song of unrest birds
And the horrors of the Gaza strip.
The bereaved screech of disturbed youth-
Does He mistake for birdsong?
About the Author
Rebecca Bronaugh is a first-year student at Selkirk College. She has a passion for writing and activism and is studying to pursue journalism. She loves reading and annotating books. She lives in Castlegar, but feels that her home is truly in Nelson.
