HIGHER THAN NIGHT

if i opened my mouth to the sun and set free with it, the angels, the deadest of long memories
...the collective prayers from mammals poached, children stolen.
if i lanced the skin of the sun's back with a quick glance of truth, with a verified point from the beaten's woe...if i delved down deep to my darkest of hates
and spat it back up to the sun's face..
would the flowers grow higher than the night?

© 2008 Andy Borum