A Prayer Warrior’s Poem

This untitled poem was written by Mr. Tim Ermatinger, a prayer warrior active with the Chicago Helpers of God’s Precious Infants before relocating to New Hampshire with his wife and new baby.

  • Triune Spirit reserves this privilege for women
  • Only.
  • To safeguard this room of hello’s
  • Where worlds are knitted
  • Where there is sweet murmuring
  • And where waters splash from kicking

  • But it happened many years ago
  • When robed men gathered to make decisions
  • To make incisions with words that came into play.
  • Few took note
  • But this is when the hemorrhaging began.
  • Now masked men can roll machines into rooms
  • That sound like freight trains.
  • Machines that make the Sun rise too early
  • Blinding sharply.
  • Machines that sneak ten tornadoes in to do their thing.
  • But this only happens in a house of goodbyes.
  • Adults only.
  • And one must spray ice over the heart to accept it
  • To choose it
  • Saying farewell to crib toys and lullabies and the like.
  • But a dumpster full of blood
  • And a surgeon’s mask could never hide his shame.
  • And these things all cry out to the living.
  • To do something.
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