Derelict Kitchen Prayer

Bless the kitchen prayer slung above the kitchen sink which says:

                                    “Bless my little kitchen,                     lord.”

Bless, then, this family ruin, this rubble of possessions;

the clean clutter of forgotten priorities.

The raw fragrant of conversation;

Grand-dads dry                      breath.

The metre of chaffing chairs against the heavy table,

and the humming bristles of dark winter grass. 

                                                          

Bless the crumbling walls, its contours, its complexion;

this antique chill, the beautiful condensation.

            The apple tree outside,

            and the raven pecking at its consciences.

                                   

Bless the pending-prejudice

from past neighbours/                       for ignorant minds

                                    fear moments of Black clarity

                                    will disdain the memory of their White history.