My wife bought a string of prayer flags
to hang on the porch of our apartment.
In this time of disease of biology, society
and political leadership, I hope that prayers
sent into the air will fill the void left
by my disbelief in such things spiritual.
But they are beautiful, a rainbow of hope
gods and horses and wishes to be sent.
After all, this is what happens between
those times of peace and discord, once wind
then tempest, once darkness then light,
a push and pull, satisfaction and fear.
I will stoop to rest on one knee, open
raised hands to a darkening sky.
These thin cloths will collect my thoughts
and send them into the Himalayan peaks
where gods will answer my wishes in time
wishes I have carried since childhood.
Brad G. Garber has degrees in biology, chemistry and law. He writes, paints, draws, photographs, and hunts for mushrooms and snakes in the Great Northwest. He is published in Edge Literary Journal, Pure Slush, Front Range Review, and Tulip Tree Publishing among others. 2011, 2013 & 2018 Pushcart Prize nominee.
