My fingers are white like whispers 

and the lips that consume them are flames 

for lack of better things to set on fire. 



My knees are red like rumors 

from this gossip with the floor. 

I haven't moved in half an hour. 



Spirit come down, 

show us your power! 

Spirit come down, 

show us your love! 



I'd tell You but I'm too afraid 

that this night will break into day 

and I'll be here without a word in reply. 

And I'd listen but I'm too ashamed 

for I know that the answer's the same 

as the last time I refused to get up and try. 



My eyes are as blank as bandages 

that cover the blood on my hands, 

that strangle themselves in despair. 



My heart is as gold as a grave 

that reshuffles its tenants each day 

and You treat me like treasure when I throw you away. 



Turn these silences into 

"Father, Father."