Stilled.
The breath and the blood,
Slowing to a stop.
Where is the smile?
The laugh?
Or even the cry?
Seconds tick by…
No movement.
No voice calling.
What happened
To the thrill
Of living life
To its fullest?
What of risk,
Rides and rough-housing?
What of playing games,
Teasing and pranks?
What of kisses,
Hugs, and holding hands?
Life.
Gone!
Leave your heart
At the door,
Slammed shut,
With a thud.
Cover your eyes.
I don’t want you to see
How thin I’ve become,
Wasting away,
In loneliness.
And how I’ve hurt
On this special day.
How I wanted to say
Something cute,
Something caring,
Something happy;
But all that came out was,
“That’s nice.”
All I cared about
Was hiding my fear,
Not starting a fight again,
Over something stupid.
I want to start over.
I want to be closer.
I want to embrace your
Wilting body.
Let’s go down
To the river,
To drown our sin,
And come up again,
And bask in the sun.
Let’s hold each other again,
Like we once did,
When God smiled on us,
And we had not
A care in the world!
Ask a question.
Doubt a lie.
Tell a story.
Is it true?
Someone wrote it.
Someone made it up
In their head.
Could it have come from God?
Not directly, surely.
No mountaintop bestowal
Of stone tablets.
And whether or not
THAT happened, is questionable.
It makes for a great story, though,
And the story is useful
For instruction and institution.
Let’s just leave it at that.
Tomato lack chance change work leave under
Walk tango loud simple click sweet vain boss
Yellow tangent freedom will relied beef down
Build want try deep bounce tape week also
Lose flea benevolent realize quarter van mice
I’ll be fine.
Just give me a chance
To fill my prescriptions,
Snack on those potato chips,
Make a Walmart run,
Fill up the tank
Of my gas-guzzling SUV,
Smoke my cigarette,
Drink a couple of beers,
Go hunting with my pals,
Take my dog to the park,
Take a ride in my boat,
Zoom around on my motorcycle,
Take a hit of acid,
Chew a bite of snuff,
Go to worship at my church,
Feed the homeless in my community,
Read a book,
Lay out on the beach,
Jog for a couple miles,
Sleep in a few extra hours,
Have a cup of coffee,
Get laid,
Collect my paycheck,
Say a prayer.
Yeah, I’ll be fine.
A woman stands at the entrance
With a shopping cart full
Of her cherished belongings,
Waiting patiently on the generosity,
Or, rather, pity, or worse, guilt,
Of the passerby, to convict,
To shame, or maybe, on the rare instance,
To inspire, to give a gift.
Aren’t we all like her,
Dragging our materials
From house to house,
Packing them away
For that rainy or cold day,
That is sure to come?
Aren’t we petitioners
To passing angels or demons,
Or a god that plays favorites,
To have mercy or just indulge us,
One more time,
So we can get our fix,
Spoiled children of a wealthy parent,
Taken a few wrong turns on the streets,
The pariah or prodigal reduced to
Yearning after the feed of pigs,
Coming out of Walmart with
Their baskets full?
