wandering halls in painted doors
fonts OF bronze and showers OF plastic
white whispers treading softly
echoes report TO THE LORD OF THE HOUSE
HOLINESS HOLINESS i see THE holes
THE white contracts THE space
no more i
suff e

THE LORD sat on this bench once
how many lost lives
have in their peril crossed
his eyes OF glass and lids
OF gold?

THE drowning TO THE right
and exorcism TO THE left
shed this body become new
become new skin skin skin
falling on THE ground THE
lives THE guilt it lingers

from THE spire THE unknown
watcher sees all
thoughts

empty pockets OF
life

"HOLINESS TO THE LORD THE HOUSE OF THE LORD"

smoke plumes not a mile away
i wonder now how far the cloud could be seen
when our house burned down?

smoke now swallows the sky
static air stopped before the storm
paralyzed on the road

what a horrible entrance
clothed in protective lies
I was made in these tales
I was formed out of these

the doors shut tight or open wide
it's up to me to decide
it's in your hands: the force
with which you hold me back

I hope you forget the peace
the happy days of deceit
from ashes I shape my truth
in a baptism by fire.

How do I forgive you?
I let it go but it crawls back
The image of your room,
You and your puppet
And the pattern on your bed.

When I tell this story I'll say
I saw a cross on the floor.
I really only saw the stick
My father gave you, long ignored
Resting against the wall.

I don't recall you holding me,
Providential eyes blind with guilt.
A half muttered apology
For things you may have done,
Maybe it took too long to bleed.

My eyes fixed on your bed,
I can't look at your face
I see a star, a diamond
Stairstep jigsaws sewn thin
Crowned with dots.

These piercing love letters
Pinned to the wall,
I’m sure I wrote one of them
And yet they stare at me
All while whispering to you

Waking up from my dream,
I remember all I've done.
Curling up in bed,
My face reaching my knees
I tug at my hair.

My eyes fixed on my wall,
I can't look at myself
I see splatters, drips
Dents, blemishes,
Imagining I see a face.

What a great and spacious building
Unfit for the occupant God,
Towers stretched high in vanity,
Ribbed walls extending in either direction
Miles and miles on end.
If this temple is the House of God,
Why then is it so brittle?
How can a river of blood come out
From these walls, no opening in sight?
How can God live within, if all that comes out
Is a spew of vile half-formed life,
A distraction, and a herring?
How can it be God's,
So often defiled with senseless visitors,
Leaving nothing but their guilt
And a dented wall?

Sanctuary garden, leaf mottled light
Shade tracing back to the walls,
Light retreats from the edge.
A thousand voices made manifest
In the mirror of their eyes.
Echoes repeat the words,
Shadows repeat the light,
In this tiny movie theater.

waiting for you
for you to redeem me
every flicker of light
or crunch of the floor
or shadowy flit
or slam of the door
makes me think that
i need to thank you
for all that you've done

do i even exist?
if nobody knows my name,
if all that is known
is my hate for my past
and a wish to grow up
and if nobody knows me
but my own thoughts,
how do i begin to live?

but you forgot,
He matters most.

-May 11 2023

You have wings
Your beautiful wings,
With a push of your mind,
Your wings the wind they find
And it is beautiful.

Blinded by your faithful light,
I stumble and lose control
Letting myself fall
Letting me fall
Only I can pull back into flight,
But I refuse.

Stuck in my head,
A minute a second,
I imprison myself in these malleable crystals,
Dry tears of defeat,
I have defeated myself.