When the cracks of my heart that are lacquered in gold
Are revealing a past that I wish went untold,
I must honor the potter whose scars are like mine
For he tells me my breaking fulfills his design.
σύζυγος
When the cracks of my heart that are lacquered in gold
Are revealing a past that I wish went untold,
I must honor the potter whose scars are like mine
For he tells me my breaking fulfills his design.
Inhale.
Hold it in your lungs,
The air so weightless
That we soon forget
That it’s even there;
Exhale.
Whose absence is felt,
Whose presence is life,
Leaving us breathless
Thinking of it all.
Inhale,
But the paradox
Is when that air leaves,
It’s the heaviest
Thing imaginable.
Air might be weightless
But breath weighs so much.
Exhale.
In Paradise a pair of eyes paralyzed
By rows of red roses in ready repose.
Memorized by men of lies so mesmerized
By holiness hidden and fruit forbidden.
All around are bells that hum
In glassy clinking taut with strings
A knot is tied around my thumb
Each tug a wave of rippling rings.
The dome of gray that serve as sky
And grunge of green that serve as grass
The net of bells go low and high
And only move when I pull back.
So fixed was I upon the bells
That sometimes echoed something new
Within my lifeless body swells
The thought that someone else could move.
Yet from the dome there came a knock
As soft as wool and sharp as death
It sends the ringing like a flock
Of doves to me from east and west.
Like lions do the bells now roar
“My child, my child, you’re not alone,”
The voice rails tender on the door,
“This empty land is not your home.”
This whisper begs me, “Let me in,
My child, before the darkness comes.”
The clamor quiets yet again
The gentle tug against my thumb.
Where my vision of heaven is like
A well-tended café after life:
The relaxing barista I meet
Will pour-over a coffee so sweet
While he offers the nearest of seats
To a sinner who has been redeemed
As he quietly asks me to sip
And report on my short mission trip.
Like the rubber of ducks
I am stretched ’til it hurts,
But the pain could be worse.
I could snap into two
Or be forced to return
To the shape that I was,
To the place I’d begun.
Elasticity sucks.
Sunlight drunk, my skin glows
Flush with sleep, my eyes close
Breath like waves, my lips part
Blanket warmth, my dreams start
My turtle friend will never die
Eternal turtle standing proud.
His turtle friends are standing by
Those jealous turtles shout out loud,
“Your immortality ain’t real!
All turtles die, in this we trust!
Eternal turtle, can you deal
With death like all the rest of us?”
My turtle friend stood for a while
The turtles watched expectantly
Eternal turtle gave a smile
And said with pure serenity,
“If only you could walk a mile
With me and see just what I mean.
Believe that my eternal life
Is more than just a dream I dream.”
The turtles cried, “Who has the time?
Our lives are short with things to do!
You might not care, and that is fine,
But that is only good for you!”
Eternal turtle gave a sigh,
“You all will live as long as me.
Your life feels short because you try
To rush through it so hastily.”
My turtle friend will never die,
Eternal turtle of the soul.
Because his turtle words are right
Just take it slow to reach the goal.
Dust is so beautiful sparkling in light
Stars as they twinkle and blink in the night.
Sand can be smooth if I walk very slow
Running my fingers along with the flow.
I am like dust but I do not know why
I cannot twinkle like those in the sky,
Muddied instead like the dirt on my shoes
Clinging to something I know I will lose.
Those caught in darkness are hoping to glow,
Wishing to be like a landscape of snow.
Mirrors of something far greater a sight,
Dust to reflect a more beautiful light.
I’m writing the righting of wrongs,
But longing too long to belong.
I’m stuck in a loop;
No luck in a group
To sing of a singular song.
I’m singing a singular song,
While writing the righting of wrongs.
I’m stuck in a groove
No luck can remove
The longing too long to belong.