mint yarrow
There is a person behind these eyes…
that insists that out there… is a Gospel.
That somewhere in writing or song or oral tradition rests the real good word.
And the good word will taste like pride
And pride will not feel like sin
And sin will be what we call all the ways we’ve learned to forgive.
That backbone will be found within
but reasons to stand up straight will be out there…
Where there are people whose lives are waiting to be made better by your inclusion in them.
One day you will be the reason why someone held their gaze.
Why someone will find home in skin over brick.
The good word will teach that a halo is just an accessory someone will ask you to wear.
That the golden hour is literally a matter of time.
This is the word and the word was good.
You see divinity may very well be in all things but it doesn’t come alone.
Communion wine is still a poison and it is poured by human hands.
The good word sounds pretty good but the fact that I can speak it means it falls from a rotten mouth.
And yeah, Sometimes I’m rotting. Blotting out what’s left of the brightness in my sky.
I’ll suffocate before I see sense, spend my hard earned pence on an ideology that’s taught me that my value cannot be found here.
That’s it’s handled by hands that I must outstretch my own towards in order to eat.
Palms open and eyes meek.
I promise there is something worth loving here. There is a person behind these eyes and I swear he is good.
It’s poor form to ask for what you don’t need. You’ll bleed people’s sympathy faster than politicians. But the human condition does crave something.
So yeah, I’ll imagine warmer nights.
Starting fights with the alarm clock dragging me away from the good word.
And the good word will taste like sweat or cocoa butter or last night's eyeshadow.
And it will feel like rainfall on rafters and forests after nightfall.
And it will remind me that sanctuaries were never just for the animals
This is my word and I pray the word is good.
ripe gust
upper stream
mellow zealot
bright night
fair lark
