A whisper echoes through my spirit;
it says:
I have one Son, and he is called a Nazarene
and an American, and a Buddha
and bin Laden
…because caffeine is just the beginning.
A whisper echoes through my spirit;
it says:
I have one Son, and he is called a Nazarene
and an American, and a Buddha
and bin Laden
It baffles me still that their teeth are so perfect-white with nice, flat edges
And their eyes and smiles bright, their faces so filled with life
But on their breath is the smell of blood
And they carry with them only death
Their presence in my psyche summons the creatures of the night that howl and scratch and cause madness
They are my poison and none could taste so sweet
The blood on their breath is mine, and I gave it gladly
And the death they carry too, not in my dying but in my failure to live
For them
The demons they summon live in me
That I might not be blinded by the light of day
The winter has not yet passed
And I walk from the frozen ground of this garden
To the edge of your pond
And I watch for hours each night
As you skate about, smiling like the crescent moon
That illuminates your graceful flight
Woe that I have no skates and
The unrelenting ice mocks my silly raft
They stole from us, but we are richer for it
The insecurity—the pain of violation—runs so deeply
We fear we cannot escape
The void
That was their betrayal, but lives now in us
Though they have long since gone and died
The void
They gave us and have now escaped
But we, too, can escape, and live on
If we let our wounds heal and
Fill the void with love
So as not to steal from others to repair ourselves
I remember better the time I spent in anticipation
Like cleaning out the garage (where no cars were parked)
Arranging the seats, setting up the stereo, sweeping the dusty floor
I can hardly remember the time I spent there with friends
Or whether or not we had much fun
But I remember that feeling
Standing alone in the doorway, broom in hand
Like freshly washed linens that are much more comfortable
When the bed is being made than slept in
The long hours spent on the road that became more meaningful
More memorable than the time we spent in…where did we go?
I stood briefly once, on the peak
And could see out into a small stretch of infinity
The wind blew through me, it seemed
And nothing above but the bright empty sky
The air moved through me and I could not breathe
And the world was all around me
But I was hardly there—
Just a speck on the landscape—I descended
Back to the plains, to the small stretch of forever
And was a part of it all again
But kept the memory of
The majesty to which I belong
I don’t see a thing in the black darkness of night,
when demons gently moan my name.
It’s all I hear, like the sound of a gentle breeze that once comforted
but now dims the candles that lit my way.
My thoughts fall away when a voice just like my own
whispers frightening things.
I begin to feel lost, and my lover’s touch terrifies me
like nothing has before.
The smell of flowers brings the image
of a funeral and a grave.
I wonder where to go, but no road leads away,
my mind becomes a prison
and my spirit is the prisoner.
I forget anything I knew, when I look in the mirror
at a face that lies
and eyes so filled with pain.
I try my best to believe that the peace I’ve known
was real, and will return.
The night’s darkness does not banish the daytime’s beauty;
it simply keeps it out of sight for a while.
Your face escapes me, though
your name is very clear.
All I can summon in my feeble heart
is the image of your spirit—
Laughter and play—
with no face, no body
that I can capture, with
even the best-laid traps.
I climb the jagged rock
At times slipping and with
Constant strain to reach
The summit of your splendor
All the while, your joyful laughter
Comes from down below
But I cannot, will not, dream of letting go
For you would never catch me