Poetry
Everyday Religion
Becky Aijala
issue seven
I believe in noteworthy twigs, sprigs of moss,
pocketed bits of jagged bark,
in river rocks adopted from Linville Falls,
the size and shape of pancakes,
in hunks of white quartz stained in red clay
dug up from one backyard and brought like family to another,
in a certain fossilized sand dollar and a cracked black meteorite
found at the beach on the same freezing winter day,
in sidewalk feathers, seen, snatched up, and saved
because the seeker was seeking.
I believe in the seeker
whose hands arrange these worthy things
along garden paths, in bowls and vases,
or just so on the breakfast table
beside the salt & pepper.
About the Author
At work on her first chapbook, Becky Aijala is a writer and a massage therapy business owner in Davidson, NC, her adopted hometown. Her poems have been published in Litmosphere, and she’s placed in Charlotte Writer’s Club contests. Becky is a long-time member of CWC’s poetry critique group-north — a monthly treasure — and reads regularly at open-mic events. She is currently between cats.
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