a little unfinished fragment
—-
All I have are sweat and tears
tattered hopes and childish fears
broken heart and boggled mind
illusions gone and shame defined
But you o Lord put all things right
drenched in glory, vast in might
binding up the broken hearts
calling light forth from the dark
liberator
call the captives; set them free
risen savior
redeem the broken world to thee
mighty father
lead your humbled sons back home
faithful lover
…
here we are.
tricked into thinking we’re
alone, unloved, abandoned.
we are the strong ones,
the troubled, the solemn.
we put on masks to hide the gloom,
blink to hide our eyes,
like shades on windows.
we are the weak ones,
the dependent, the fallen.
we fall apart to show the glory,
to brighten by contrast,
the one who makes new.
here we are:
a heritage of doubters,
a lineage of disbelief,
a family of
cores-strong-as-iron,
unbending-as-oak,
/but/
outsides-crumble
and that’s okay
they’re supposed to
little boys crying on bathroom floors
little girls sobbing in stairwells
we are the lovers, the fighters
the deeper we love the deeper we’re cut
but that’s okay
we’re supposed to
and staring in mirrors
at all the puffy-eyed ugliness of grief
the spirit inside us
speaks in the silence:
“be loved,
beloved,
be loved,
and love.”
God is in our tears, making the
whole
world
turn.
——–
a reaction piece.
i wrote you a letter yesterday
just to love you
i told you how proud i was of your
strength, beauty, humor,
i told you how much God loves you,
how thrilled he is for you to be his daughter.
i sprinkled it with scripture
drenching it in deity
i poured out my affection for you in ink,
since i can’t do it in person
i wish i could give it to you
i wish you knew how much i admire you
how much i love you
this wasn’t in the letter, but
baby
don’t lose yourself
like i did
oh i wish you could learn
from my mistake
keep your strength, beauty, humor
don’t be known as his
you’re yours
be strong
oh! darling, go with god
clinging to him brings you yourself
who you were always meant to be
our sweet fierce untame yahweh god
into his hands i offer you
and beg him to keep you safe
You know how during the Middle Ages and then the Renaissance they painted the saints and Jesus wearing Middle Ages and Renaissance clothes? I think we should do that now too.
being asked to leave a prayer meeting,
being told that my opinions are the way to death,
being talked about – (they say i hate,
they say i have unresolved issues of hostility):
this was not what i expected when you said
God was planning something big here.
i remember walking through that chapel
at the tender age of fifteen, thinking:
i will spend alot of time here.
i remember spiritually running from home
to get here so i could be my own kind of christian,
unashamed and unhindered.
i agree with the sources you cite
even with your thesis
but your body paragraphs lack validity
and the citations are taken out of context
fortunately i am not the grader
i am permitted to read what you have
then write my own free verse
both our forms recognized,
i cannot say, “research papers are
stupider than poems,”
i simply say, “oh look, here my
rhythm is off, and there you have an
unsupported topic sentence.”
but don’t look at me and say
“she doesn’t believe in research papers.
and she hates research paper writers.”
and don’t look at my poems and say
“that’s not english.”
this is me being a child:
resolving to wait until i’m 23
so when i date a guy 12 years older
i can tell my mom
“you did it at my age,
and look how it turned out”
4 years to wait?
easy, and i’ll find someone
who will help me teach my kids
greek and hebrew and german and french,
who has cooked on his own for years
and doesn’t mind doing it for me tuesdays&thursdays,
who will prove me wrong almost every time
(with kisses to sweeten the blow,
making that metaphorical fist in my face
taste like sugar and spice and everything nice),
no i will not let you walk away, get back here /
you’re wrong and i love you /
you totally screwed that up, so let me kiss you /
no i will not walk away, i’m right here /
sorry sweet girl you’re right and i love you /
i totally screwed that up, so kiss me /
he’ll be imperfect but he’ll be perfect for me
he’ll wrestle his God
and come away crippled and blessed
dirty and streaked with grime
from wars with doubt and divinity
he settles down to merlot and manuscripts
teaching me all he has learned,
holding my head when we kiss
“i know it’s been tough for you,”
she says, sweet catholic eyes full of sainthood,
“but it’s going to get better.”
and just like that – so few words -
it all rushes back /
hurricane whirling confusing unrelenting
needly water possessed by a desire
to splinter me
when i’m underwater
Someone Else breathes for me
in- not
out- yet
driving around this town is like
picking scabs off wounds
the bleeding starts again
not as bad as before,
but it’s messy -
gets all over the interior of the car,
you know,
and it feels stupid to go to the hospital
for such an old wound /
should’ve healed by now
so i can’t talk
about it
my platelets aren’t doing their job,
come on, blood,
coagulate,
hold this skin together,
clot,
so i can come home
uninjured
unpained
unhurt
tighter than tight
and don’t let go
you’ve surrounded me for eight months-
don’t stop now,
don’t disappear
you beautiful, beautiful
adored and precious daughters
of my father,
my sisters, my loves,
don’t
go
i’ll be here, you
sweetlikehoneyandsugar
girls with
kickslikecurryandspice, with
funlikecandyandsushi
women, strong like oak,
and beautiful as lillies
i’ll be here
waiting
so come back
and don’t wait too long, now,
you hear?
