I am anonymous
A fallen leaf seduced by a Breeze
Cast down
Lying upon this dusty road
My  carnelian prayer cloth.

Supplicated to the very air
Every breath a confession
Wildflowers openly laugh at me
Know the Life.

My chilly Wind tormentor
rushes in again
Not out of love, but of a late
Summer's lust.
Stealing me across the elements
Working my veins possessively
Gently
Consistently
Wickedly.
I respond recklessly.

Yield to my alchemist
My flagellation is my Lover's ritualistic foreplay
Anointing my face, my body, my soul with
warm holy, holy water.
I blanche and bend, become another thing:
polished, shiny moist and Sacred.

This cool, chaste heart breaks me
Leaving shimmering facets of my body
Details of my sacraments - 
The Art of My Salvation.
Slip my Lover's Eucharist between plumped lips,
I faint when longing marries desire.

Oh, what stormy Joy!
Shames me
Silver threads pull me in, spin me into submission.
And I so devout in my endurance.

Autumn arrives 
And...
Soon I will be pressed between the 
pages of some slip-of-a-girl's diary
Staining her words, words full of
melancholy tears and
Life.

I am an anonymous Leaf lying in the dust.
 

Sister Palachea's perpetual sacrifice feeds the earth and bears 
the scars. Too late to save old patient, his life spilled along the cracks 
of the ancient bathroom floor. Sister Palachea weeps, her soul rubbed 
raw... the well planned supplication, the favored verse followed by the 
sudden fall, a legacy of sorrow, her angustia de familia...she is wedded 
to a life of patience, this  lovely porcelain Madonna,  diaphanous in 
temperament she dissolves into her life of prayers to whispered Saints,
gives meticulous care to her Sisters linen, bathed in lilac, folded 
and caressed as bliss drops from her fingertips.