Gnarled bark and twisted branches
tangle in the gray sky.
I lose touch with the turning,
the language of wind in the trees.
When we rode in tall grass
the earth was all we knew.
Now I pray upon a wooden altar
that the sun may rise and shine upon the people.
My clothes are soaked in forgiveness
that my family be unharmed.
I have not loved enough
but there’s still time.
I scrawl these words on ragged cloth,
sending them far on the wings of crow.
May they reach you in these dark hours
while we keep faith toward dawn.

photograph by Albion Butters
Reading of “In These Dark Hours” with music by State Symphony Capella of Russia