For Now, They Stay

Those prayers that should be drifting
up and out
now choked and held by nature's hand.
Once bright and firm, cloth soaked by rain,
the colors fade, in sifting seasons
like the songs from their once land
now choked and held, not lifting up
the heaviness of now.

Every spring they are replaced,
and brighter still until the sky rains down,
again, as if by plan
yet twisted hope
still sends out words that catch the wind,
are carried far and reach beyond
the shadow blocking sun's remembered light.

~ ~ Annie Wyndham

[first publication]

[This one was for you, Tibet.]

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*Photo by awyn, Jan. 28, 2010, outside my kitchen window.