On how we tend to the body of our beloved

For every prayer for hope god’s body sprouts a feather
for every prayer for vengeance, a wound from a feather plucked

Once and again every now and then on god’s body
there are feathers enough to fly

but mainly god’s body sinks and swells and
oozes puss while we cry out אָנָא אֵל נָא רְפָא נָא לָה