Ultimatum

Dear Father,

I ask yet again

bring light unto your earthbound daughters.

Frigid and decayed,

grey beneath mechanical moons,

ease the shaking of their hearts

one final night

and I shall pray again, come morning.

May stumbling feet lead them home

or into hands that only bruise them.

Upon the metal of the barricade,

the plastic of the tattered curtains

somewhere in the buzzing

may they hear you.

Their next days are uncertain

in your corner darkest,

but so softly

they might hear you in the mids.

Dear Father,

without wombs

they bare you children,

without hands to hold

they reach for lights unseen.

If you could only guide them,

a sunrise

something soft beyond

this endless night.

So removed from wild green,

morning dew and changing seasons,

but your singing in the garden

they recall.

Teeth yellowed, nails chipped

wet as newborns

bellies empty.

Dear Father,

it is unjust.

There is only concrete left

only inputs and black wires,

yet they toil to make life.

Which of your sons

will free us from penitence?

I ask you this

unafraid.

I rejoice the endless night.