My Litany

You are my bread and my wine,
My god and not my God.

You are the knife on my table
And the Sunday bird whistling.

You are the rhythm
And my reason for dancing.

You are the wind,
Winter’s foreshadow of spring.

But you are also my bleeding fingertips
And my breath, pace quickening.

You are not my wings
And you most certainly are not that clear moon in my dreams.

Because I am your stars
And your childhood finger paintings.

And I am the cars’
Whirring on the highway stream.

And I am the autumn breeze
And the leaves’ reddening.

And I am your bridge
And falls’ rushing debris underneath.

And I am the blues, and the greens,
And the orangey-pinks.

But I am not yours:

I am nothing to find
For ears deaf and eyes colorblind.

(Inspired by Billy Collins’ “Litany”)
-with love, devonshiregrace