Clothe the Naked

Reality stares us in the face. And you are cute as a button. 

Hanging by a thread. Tough times. Heard it said, best to cut

off a loose button, so to then wisely reattach it more securely. 

We hear the leaves lift and fall. Maybe lost. Cement is hard.

Hearts can crack. Yet, there is hope. Fallen from sackcloth, 

loosened and found, we see a wooden button, now ours here

upon the sidewalk. Relieved, you laugh, for the serendipity

unravels wonder within pliable chests here in our Ninevah. 

Sure as sporadic trees endure, sure as spring will return, yes. 

And kindness. You hold the button up to the big sky. Surely

now someone can knit of us a common thread and give life

to the dead. This seed awakens a city, how our bones jump.

See how faces become light simply by us believing in hope,

that a shard can unfasten from the wood of the cross. This, 

despite loss, presents the heaven we have come across. Yes, 

my friend, let us now see heaven in how the lit world knits.

I see your smile, Veronica, rain, as you overcome the pain

and lift the good Lord’s countenance from all the puddles

reflecting all of us as we are, as we drift but remain here.

Even now, as the earth dries, and you smile with a button.

Seems yes, maybe in this masked place no one is faceless. 

Seems yes, even the old, the tattered and torn, can reform.

All that is thought lost can be found now as new in mercy.

And that includes even us, here pulled by common thread.

Surely now, yes, we shall be clothed in all that is glory.

For somewhere, there is a tired coat that needs a button. 

In a world of need, here we are, at the ready, as we are,

to fasten our shared world with the power in your hand.

Flash Issue 9