The God Of Stones

You lay a walnut sized stone
in a near broken sling
made mostly of hope

Praying you get
a chance to launch it 
into the eye of
the Brute Approaching

(who in this case is cousin
Blood is thick between you
There has been 
so much of it)

Pray by taking aim
Pray by letting fly

He falls
You pray again
Exalt the well-answered prayer
of your well-flung missile

Burn his corpse where it lies
Weep the small obligation over family shame
Plant a nut tree in his barren outline
Savor the brain-meats grown there for decades after
Resolve to pray more 
Make a stronger sling with which
to offer future hosanna and hallelujah 
to the God Of Stones