Thursday, October 28, 2010

If I had prayed with her

in the garden while the others slept,
or joined her on that storm-clouded hill
as the one from Aramathea,
immersed in the ocean trench of his grief,
gently lowered the torn and bloodied corpse,
or if I had risen up in the middle
of the air as the joyous
echoed through skies witnessing
the coming of the Kingdom,
would she have
seen past my formless heart,
and kept me alive

Sunday, October 24, 2010

The grief must come in silence,

so as not to arouse suspicion
or call attention to
your tiresome pathos
your faded drama queen sorrow.
Bypassers must be kept in the dark,
so there can be no audible sobs;
that's for children
and other people who are still
their image.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

I imagine a day

when all of them are gathered
in some place fragrant with
sweet flowers,
and everything is finally revealed,
as we might show a child 
the person holding the strings
on the marionette.
And many of them will nod knowingly,
perhaps saying, "So THAT'S what that was",
and others will bend their heads down and weep
softly, the grayish terrors finally falling from
their shoulders with a clattering racket.
And some will stare in shocked disbelief,
as the world they drove themselves into
like a tent stake
crumbles beneath their feet. 
And others
will laugh gleefully as they watch the
pained expressions of those
who were so sure that the marionette
was a real boy.