spinning

today, the sun was an hour hand;

the moon was Monday.
while dusk crept like a tide into our small church,

we remembered the dead by reading the litany of saints;

the dead heard us and smiled.

a siren went by on its way to save someone.

a child set prayer wheels spinning in Katmandu.

an old woman counted the veins on her hands.

we wrote prayers on small pieces of paper with pencil stubs.

streetlights went green. yellow. red.

a nun’s hands sang the rosary in Vatican City.

thousands swirled around the Kaaba in Mecca.

the bread and wine blessed our hands and mouths.

somewhere tequila was drunk.

we read each prayer aloud since the dead can no longer read.

a Sufi spun in mystic trance in Senegal.

in London, the DJs whirled and the crowds surged.

a murder was committed on a blameless victim in New Orleans.

deadheads twirled round and round their universe.

a drug user was found dead by a general’s statue in a park.

we exchanged a sign of peace between ourselves.
buddhist monks felt the dharma wheel turn in san francisco.

the poor are still with us when the service ends.
our prayers wind their way along their paths,
while the world spins quietly through this night.

- r. russeth