PS Cottier

Prayer

Let me kill the cynicism
that dogs me, toothily.
Let cleverness die
just for today;
let me believe
with simplicity,
that hope was born
that hope is with us
that hope will come again.

Let me lie down in pillowy hay;
no more maybes and yets
and tired, half-hearted smirk.
Or better still, blow me, now, full-sailed
and squalling, billowing onto faith.

P.S. Cottier

May I wish all my readers a Merry Christmas, whatever their faith (or lack of faith).

And, to get away from simple faith and back to weird curiosity, note how two of the wise men in Jacques Daret’s painting seem to be talking into their sleeves, like security guards looking after a VIP.

For the last time this year, click this feather for further poetic gifts. It’ll all be happening again next year, from January 22nd.