Resurrected bits and pieces resist the crumble,
while vices mumble in these halls, leaning
hard against these walls.
And though I’m home,
I feel alone,
listening for answers my heart can’t hold.
These scenes aren’t foreign,
but I am…
not fitting this skin I’m held in;
needing new form and parcel
for this breath of partial
blowing through my frame.
Reaching for fulfilled me,
tripping over empty;
vacant lots where impressions stayed.
Wanting Him to have His way, while
salted sores impose delay;
how can I rinse away these stains
from nature’s stone?
On my own, fighting in faith,
as demolitions swing their fates;
this foundation feels the quake
… something is lost.
But for the cause, I stay awake,
vigilant for watching’s sake; a
lighthouse beaming hopeful refuge
through these eyes.
Unwelcome spies casting shades,
by this prayer eclipses fade;
flailing forms dissipate as dawn comes nigh.
Structure abides for one more ride,
but I confess this space confines
and, with it, time defies me;
pinching corners in the sphere
of my timeless here.
I just want to be –
without then or there or them or he…
free of now’s dichotomy.
Newness in a soul’s rebirth,
dropped face down in yester’s dearth;
how the pressure closes in on will.
And still, I am the pillar rising high,
holding form and sowing life, while
all the holes beneath the worth
keep me tethered to sinking earth.
<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: