Song of Songs

On my bed at night I sought him
whom my heart loves--
I sought him but I did not find him.
I will rise then and go about the city;
in the streets and crossings I will seek
Him whom my heart loves.
I sought him but I did not find him.
The watchmen came upon me,
as they made their rounds of the city;
Have you seen him whom my heart loves?
I had hardly left them
when I found him whom my heart loves
I took hold of him and would not let him go
till I should bring him to the home of
my mother,
to the room of my parent.
I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem,
by the gazelles and hinds of the field,
Do not arouse, do not sir up love
before its own time.

A Hero's Journey

I have passed the gates of hell
and tasted fire brimstone in my
grinding teeth.
I descend through years
through ages
through lives I've lived
and those I haven't lived;
hundreds of bodies
thousands
millions of bodies--
touched by flames
twisting taunting
burning searing
ruining beautiful flesh;
we wail together but with
no earthly avail,
as a ship with empty sails
caught in the clutches of barren winds.
We wail together but to
what avail?
I descend into hell.
I descend to a sea of souls
swimming swarming sweeping
sensations that crawl like
insects.
(I detest the feet of the insects
that find ways to creep under
my skin. I crush them with my fists.)
Into the dreary waves I plunge.
Sickness steeps through my clothes.
I am naked and I hate it.
Naked I kick and swim and fight
my long hair billows. I grow
stronger. No need to breath air,
I inhale light piercing from above.
Piercing white light--and I fight
the demons clawing at my defenses
chewing through my skin--insects pour out.
I purge and they pour. The
piercing
light
burns them from my body
and I am clean.
Rising (a force of levitation bears me) from
the pool of souls, trembling feet meet hard rock
I climb with dagger clench between my
grinding teeth.
The dagger is made of diamond--
materialized from carbon crevices and
deceased organic material pushed into the bowels
of the earth, so conveniently--where hell is located.
Wings flap
teeth try to bite my fingers
I climb on
weak and strong
and take my diamond dagger
and strike the cages hanging
tight upon
stalactites.
I break the bony locks
and free my sisters
my brothers
my sisters...who are living still
who will find a way out.
Fly away.
Fly away from here.
There is freedom
there is life
away from hell.

Of Ghosts and Antinodes.

Invisible supports can lift you into the air. I've heard that it feels like a force is pushing up; I've heard it feels like nothing. And all of the sudden, you're off the floor and there is space between your feet and the ground and you're closer to Heaven than you've ever been.

Some of us fall on our faces. Some of us struggle to stay up. Some of us believe with 100 hearts, and some of us believe with somebody else's heart.

I once had a conversation in a haunted garden about the little faith I had in my heart, and a woman I admire lent me her faith. It stayed with me all this time, and grew. Then just two months ago, she told me she lost most of her faith but a few shreds she had scratched at as it slipped away. They were little pieces; I gave her back some of the faith she'd given me, and now we both have lots and lots.

What happens now that ghosts come back? I've recently heard something familiar--something I hadn't heard in 6 or 7 years. Disembodied voices that encouraged me when I was a young sprout in a world I thought I understood. The voices resurfaced unaltered, as if they had been hibernating or lying dormant in some dusty corner of my brain --like my Physical Science flashcards preserve with crusting rubber bands from 8th grade which resurfaced in time for my college senior year Physics midterm and actually helped me. In my 8th grade handwriting, I scrawled in marker on the yellow folder, "Maybe I'll Need These Someday." The dust made me sneeze, but the note cards were brilliant. "Antinodes." "Vector Quality." Saved me a lot of googling.

I suppose we store up our nuts for winter, as they say. (As squirrels say.) We can take a seed, bury it, forget all about it, and find it later when it's grown some kind of fruit tree, and then we can be like, "Awesome. Peaches!" I wonder how many invisible seeds and voices and pieces of faith have sunk into the ground right below our feet, where they wait to randomly sprout up and surprise us.

Go to hell, Satan.

Round 3,285
I'm kicking Satan's ass
But I know that he'll come back
with something stronger than the last
something vicious--
something fast.
But I'll anticipate the blow
blocking everything he'll throw
using every prayer I know
and back to hell he'll go.

Snow Day

10 o'clock and pancake batter bubbles, grease fizzles softly while the aroma of coffee steams out of the machine. The wooden floors are warm from heat blowing through vents, but the breakfast plates are cold. Outside is blanketed in a thick fleece of snow. White fluff covers everything: sticks, stones, shovels, garbage cans, broken refrigerators, 1995 Chevy vans, roads, houses. I'm wearing a tank top and drinking french vanilla coffee. No obligations for one day. 24 hours of weekend bliss encapsulated between Tuesday and Thursday. Thank God for sweet, sweet lake-effect and giving us all a break.

Communion

Exposition
-expose it in
secret.
Adoration
-adore it in
secret.
God's
agape
ultimate
act of love;
a sustained gaze
-amaze
-heart and skin.
Closer than we've ever been.

Advent of my Digression

Words, do not betray me.
Never cease to yield.

Armor, steel, spirit, chains
horses, walls, moats and mud

Arrows, swords, bows, knives.

Hide me in your crashing mass
or push me out to sea.