Trouble

by Patrick T. Reardon

All souls, trouble the water.
Trouble the missing.

Prowl the pews, all souls.
Walk dusty Thessalonians Road
to jubilee land.

Raise up, all souls, raise up.

Trouble the water.
Trouble the birdsong morning leaves.
Trouble the winged pensives, all souls.

Dress white. Dress red.
Dress black as the cosmos.

Raise, all souls, a titanic howl.

Raise the brother’s scream,
a harmony of rage pain, infant pain,
two unseen, as taught,
unheard in their rip-skin silence.

Trouble the water.
Trouble the water, all souls,
with wading.

Bless the clatter of bird wings
over Ilium Arena.
Bless the hidden.
Bless the failing.

Christen the howl.

Baptize the spirit stream, all souls.
Water the forehead,
the arms, feet and eyes.

Water the trouble.
Water the howl.