Prophet
Poem
Irony
That a man holding keys
Of the highest power
Still watched night
Crawl to his feet,
Alone on his knees.
Reassurance
That with the half voice
Of a small wind,
He spoke words that moved
Through flesh and bone
Into the Holiest of Holies.
About the Author
Cara M. Bullinger
Cara Bullinger, a software-design editor for WICAT, lives in Provo, Utah.

