‘prayer Poems' Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Can't imagine the original ‘word'
long before the first wright… not being
sung… or spoken… or respected… maybe.
the stillness will not open like a door
but to only that widest blue…
witch winds do so precede any storm
that will flatten a freshly ‘turned' turf
and accept the hoped-for stabilization
and not ritual sanitization of all lands
by some group of wicked conjurers filthy hands.
Family, friends, fellow human beings… one species
no second tier or other non-earthly beings ever
of the one heart which beats hopefully forevermore
Read me? From the furthest reach of what is known
IAM coming and bringing my boyz and girlz wit me!
Be prepared and not scared and please do wright me
more than a few of those special "Prayer Poems"