Rest Poem by Amy Stuart

Lord.
I sat on the steps and basked in the light
Of your creation
No buses stopped for me
The world whirred past
Even just for a moment
I prayed for rest
Hands reaching to the sky
I prayed to no longer
Be a speck on a page
The poem a writer scrunched up
And started over
The painting an artist
Never finished
The requiem of our days

I will never scrunch up another poem
Just let them cumulate
Pile up until I have to wade
Until I almost drown
Move onto the walls,
Pull up the carpet
Who knows

My saviour, Christ, tourniquet
Give me hands
Give me ink
So that I can write humanity
Personified, eternally on the toilet door
And the world, oblivious
Will whirr past
Even just for a moment.