Eleven

O Father Of Mercy Wash out this grief you shower Over me and the land, Ring out the spirit And Saturday our love's weeks Like light through locked twigs, Beyond the puddled boy Crying in vain for solace Sung all about him With worried weather, Arise in your emptiness Head-high like the sun. Stars are for darkness. May each night blanket blessings Down Heart's corridor And the floors of joy Shift shapelessly through lives Like mud on apples In a woven dreamland, Floating as God's single thought, Making rich your harmony As the cross flies off And the Bible loads squirt guns And "grace" replaces "debt" Replaces tongue and Speech in swirling compassion Viewed from your own chair You made from pictures And lightbulbs and fake noses And dusty open cheer Up! The baby smiles Your world of grief has shattered. Light has pierced the dark.