The beams reach high—to you As if you are not here, in the pew But you don’t mind it You come how we’re able Hallelujah The cross up there reminds me of the ones you put all over Torture as a decoration, hallelujah Like the one you pained for me at that pottery shop When I got myself baptized And Grandma Betty thought it was a waste You were my sanctuary—are? Do I still get to say that? While I learn to stand on the legs you knit for me in your womb? Which sort of makes them yours, I guess And I like that thought, hallelujah And I hope…
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An Attempt
It will not stop a war now, but I’m gonna love my kid I’ll tell her every day that she’s got the things we need So she’ll believe the truest thing I know If I have any say (That power flexes big and tall, but hope and beauty strike it) It will not jam the guns up, but I’m gonna kiss my man Let our limbs wrap all around for to do what arms are made Worship the Imago Dei, not burst it into shrapnel If I have any sway We’ll hold each other when we’re scared and make ourselves more whole It will not soothe a leader’s greed, but…
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Eugene
“Unforced rhythms” says the version we’re allowed to accept now That the author is dead and we found out That his heretical words didn’t do any harm But undid quite a lot—brought forward the Love that book meant —for some of us Others hope he rots in hell Why do we work so hard to protect what we make up? Was Jesus just another cult leader? Setting up another thing to keep alive, whatever the cost —blood and self-abandonment the first in line? Revolutions like the ones we need are not won with war Or euphoria Or right doctrine Or ritual They revolve around the solution. A re-love-elution Bathing in…
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Cave
Once I was a cave for you Strong walls and a deep hearth Warm and safe and home My skinny arms sheltered – Not too thin for you, Tiny little thing, sprawled or curled I was a whole landscape You grew as you do when you Have a home to grow out of It is good and right and true But I feel I am small again Too small for you To be enveloped like you ought to be When the world is too un-cavey I wonder if it is enough That once I was a shelter – It seems to be when you cling And I can’t surround you…
