unheard of goddesses sing to lost dreams

By Brittany Garrett

Mother Sky, Father Ocean,

Mother Sun, Father’s Daughters,

we cannot find Olympus in these clouds— 

cannot find reason within recent imagination

yet still we dream


faith and superstition unveil themselves to be merely forms of wishes

white lace bandaging uncertain hope


            the rosebush wilted first

            soft pink blooms darkened at

            petal tips—

                        a crisp brown slowly creeping

                        slowly enveloping

            one by one leaves fell


            the whole performance unnoticed until the



were we wrong

to assume the whisper in the breeze was for us?

the wind is stored with our misfortunes and both

seduce one another late at night— beckon one another

with wet lips and heavy breaths creating

storms in the dark we did not ask for


            saplings struck by lightning are

            our Sunday morning alters

            certainty of our own innocence is the bloodied sacrifice


Father’s Daughters, 

we have discussed, we have prayed, we have

hoped, planned, questioned, built a shelter with our promises

but blueprints led only to false security of 

a roof made of words


every choreographed ritual is one

misstep from their rain dances

and the language of clouds guarantee

there will always be rumbling over the horizon