Sunday, December 12, 2004

a poem i wrote, God talking

carry me in your bones my son
you are yet far...
go away from this wasted land, theatre of the dead,
their unreal dancing
contagious to your heart.

keep me in the curves of your fists, son
so your fight will heal you.
name yourself Hero, make
a fire for your flesh
build quiet altars for
loving me.

I am your blood,
your forgotten song
I walked over mountains to rescue you
the light and the shadows on the curves of your face,
I painted them there

keep me, my son!
I wrote your life
for a thousand years before you.
I carried your child's voice
in my ear
every time
every time



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