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.
![](https://donhynes.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/In-These-Dark-Hours-300x225.jpeg)
photograph by Albion Butters
Reading of “In These Dark Hours” with music by State Symphony Capella of Russia