First Prayer
by Lonner F. Holden

In this sanctuary of deep forest
below fractured granite crowns,
my wild mouth waits mute,
impatient for first prayer.

Shadow impulse juts
up from far beneath
the stony pegs I teeter on -
bones fill with artesian wisdoms:
grave wisdoms, root wisdoms
water wisdoms, time
magma of ancestral dignities.

Light impulse spirals
jagged downdraft of heaven -
jolt from fierce angels -
super nova dragon breathed
fury braid of emptiness.

They marry in fiery dance,
hot tempered under
my witnessing tongue, ignite
this infant voice to name
world, mother, father:
“Holy, Holy, Holy.”

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