I know You are here in the morning sky
when the winds calm and blue ash
turns to flame over the clock tower
and mountains of the high desert.
I know You hear the raven
as she circles the field
to the smell of dust not rain.
Her shriek of despair.
I know You are the fire
shining through the Venetian blind
that casts a shadow of beads
( belonging to Your Veiled Mother)
on my wall.
I know You feel the tremble
in the closed bloom of my hands
waiting for a prayer
to open and bless.
I know You are here,
solvent in light and breath.