Said the prayer to the dream

I don't believe you want to hear me
Said the dream to paper

I don't believe you want to hold me
Said the paper to the wind

I don't believe you want to help me
Said the wind to the man

I don't believe you see me
The man felt the wind whisper in his ear and swatted the dream 

that sounded like a prayer that was held by the paper
In one breath, the wind became an answer

no one ever asked the question to
In one dream, the wind forgot its voice, in another dream the paper

was torn before it learned how to say its own name
In the first dream, the prayer learned what walking through

blackness feels like — it is the opposite of abandonment
In the last dream, all the names are written on the paper

in the form of a prayer that sounds

like the wind and feels like the breath

of a flower across your cheek
Daemond Arrindell is our Poet in Residence for August