We Implore

How in Your name do you do it  
night and day, day and night,
weather the whiteout of words,

mad scribble of mother tongue,
those heart rending howls
packing power enough to jolt

stolen celestial cat naps
hunt You down holed up
under alias disguised

at the wispy tip of some
far flung finger of cloud or,
as I like to picture it, waiting

at a light draped low in a pearlescent
Lincoln MKZ with tinted windows,
following the progress of some pilgrim

brandishing a hand lettered sign
like the relic of a martyr, silently
praying for the green.