lost at birth sent to be
a sweetening balm, weighed
on scales leveraged in secular debt,
who would,
should listen?

what will change, the
palm print on the ledge we escaped over,
our witness to the twist in code,
rogue consecrations of law beyond touch?

would the potent display of mystery,
turbulent above us unseen
save for the vapored breath of god,
cower us and we stand in frozen love?

to where might we escape, to be
unknown, blended in to an
indistinguishable sameness.

having failed in disguise, we turn to
the promise of pitiful words
and pray;
we are small, let us move.