It hurts to think God doesn’t <br />love her dangling dainty pale <br />feet in life’s silvery flow flowing <br />like a wingy compressing air <br />against speed boiling like lead <br />in a vat or concrete hardening <br />hurts to see her flinging limbs <br />towards love forgetting the flow <br />silvery sizzling cramped. Who <br />is she her punishment is such? <br />Who is God a thing to allow <br />a silvery flow and bubbling <br />lead and cold insides hell and <br />a girl a slip a mere one born <br />to be cupped in loving palms <br />not reaching for what is out <br />of grasp. Who’s reader, poet, <br />with hurt defining God as if <br />it were possible remotely so.<br /><br />Sarah Sarai<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-flow-a-flowing-flow/
