unpolished free write

God is one…
We created an ancient fire, and we threw our children into it every generation, we let our love be burned and consumed and spit out again on the tips of tounges of flame….lovely killers, beautiful deadly dancers
I am that curled up scroll that wise men fear
I am the hot wind that weathered classical statues and made a mockery of skill and vision…
I never saw myself.
Heirs to a scolded clan, a lost family….we hold our breath and wince at the slightest sound
At the faint mutterings of faith and deliverance.
What is to stop the wicked from taking what we have, from tearing up our streets and bulldozing our homes?
Only vanity—the construction of a lie, over and over again, until it can be taught and etched into a people’s memories and made into a song for children….
My hand curves around hers….
Fingers move in between fingers to symbolize the taking away of space, of distance.