Showing posts from January 11, 2009

We Are Yours!

The wormhole, paradise, hauls its wave above the injured in my spirit.

His soldiers, with their blistering certainty marching forward with their cleansed bodies, upright breasts, asses and protruding masculinities, look down and see before them a naked and lifeless child on the floor. God, they imagined, placed the infant there as sign, glint of light shining down on the divine churches golden base.

A few cradled the dead child while others built a pyre at the foot of their Christ. They laid the eager body upon its cradle and declared, “We are yours!” and lit the brittle timber.

Falling to their knees and repeating their mantra they watched their sacrifice melt.

First the soft hair of the child curled up with the flames, then sparked by the heat it ruptured into ash. Then came the tender flesh covering the ears which melted like wax, dripping down into the flame it sizzled and popped and drooped to its loss.

Then the skin on the palms of the hands and the heels of the feet oozed down …

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham?

O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there.

I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time?

© 2008 mrp/thepoetryman