Not mirrors
Nor handles on the door
Something more
A hand to inner makings
Hidden deep
within the blood and gore
some find the reach to stone
Excalibur at best
no place of rest
the few
that clear away the sweaty paths
and dark nights of the soul
(dismissed as
brave cowards willing sacrifices on the alter
of the nothing child)
….my children all
oozing blood n grime
displays of rancid
body parts
what fallen angel hasn’t longed
for mary’s hand upon the brow
cool strokes
baptism of our greater way of being
what horror
anger
wrath has not been
visioned worn and tested
ways of
hu man in the quest
no rest
no rest
For stinky vermin guests
Leave your mud shoes at the door
And walk upon the earthen floors
We Entered at our own demise
Oh Pearl of greatest price
Your song of sacrifice
Will sing the truth of who our least
Might be
A candidate for dire humanity
For all the world to see
we fail!
To mark the boundaries of despair
With something more
than platitudes
and musings in the round
we win as often as
we scream the tearful sounds
as witness to our children’s
fall from grace
and curse the womb that brought them to this place
of pain
who here
would willingly
slam hands upon the cross
and offer up their life for
handfuls of these vipers
….who here upon the round
can hold a steady glance
into the pit of all our
reckonings
and know our hand is in the fault
so few pillars of salt
so few burning bushes
though none pass by
without witness
2 the U N I