I.12
I draw aside the curtain. You mock us with the beauty of your world. My heart hates the trees, the wind moving the branches, the dead diamond machinery of the sky. I pace the corridor between my teeth and my bladder, angry, murderous, comforted by the smell of my sweat. I weakened myself in your name. In my own eyes I disgrace myself for trusting you, against all evidence, against the prevailing winds of horror, over the bully’s laughter, the torturer’s loyalty, the sweet questions of the sly. Find me here, you whom David found in hell. The skeletons are waiting for your famous mechanical salvation. Swim through the blood, father of mercy. Broadcast your light through the apple of pain, radiant one, sourceless, source of light. I wait for you, king of the dead, here in the garden where you placed me, besides the poisonous grass, miasmal homesteads, black Hebrew gibberish of pruned grapevines. I wait for you in springtime of beatings and gross unnecessary death. Direct me out of this, O magnet of the falling cherry petals. Make a truce between my disgust and the impeccable landscape of fields and milky towns. Crush my swollen smallness, infiltrate my shame. Broken in the unemployment of my soul, I have driven a wedge into the world, fallen on both sides of it. Count me back to your mercy with the measures of a bitter song, and do not separate me from my tears.
I draw aside the curtain. You mock us with the beauty of your world. My heart hates the trees, the wind moving the branches, the dead diamond machinery of the sky. I pace the corridor between my teeth and my bladder, angry, murderous, comforted by the smell of my sweat. I weakened myself in your name. In my own eyes I disgrace myself for trusting you, against all evidence, against the prevailing winds of horror, over the bully’s laughter, the torturer’s loyalty, the sweet questions of the sly. Find me here, you whom David found in hell. The skeletons are waiting for your famous mechanical salvation. Swim through the blood, father of mercy. Broadcast your light through the apple of pain, radiant one, sourceless, source of light. I wait for you, king of the dead, here in the garden where you placed me, besides the poisonous grass, miasmal homesteads, black Hebrew gibberish of pruned grapevines. I wait for you in springtime of beatings and gross unnecessary death. Direct me out of this, O magnet of the falling cherry petals. Make a truce between my disgust and the impeccable landscape of fields and milky towns. Crush my swollen smallness, infiltrate my shame. Broken in the unemployment of my soul, I have driven a wedge into the world, fallen on both sides of it. Count me back to your mercy with the measures of a bitter song, and do not separate me from my tears.
~ Leonard Cohen
Sometimes, it's all that's left. God forbid that I silence such depth, truth and raw humanity with words from the shallow end of the pool, splashing in undignified bigotry. Trading one disguise for another.
"I cannot see you in Church. Ever."
Me to Christian (ironically)
And it's true. These past 4 months have found me finding a little more of myself, more certainty and strength. This has lead to an outpouring of my heart and soul into the wonderful people around me. Let me share my walk and my faith and the nuggets of truth that I pursue! But I find, that at the end of the day, if any decide to take this journey with me, it would not start with The Sinner's Prayer. And not just for the fact that this would be an impossibility, it would also make my stomach turn.
But truth and love are too powerful to be shut out by any construct that man can make. Build a wall and it'll seep through your inevitable cracks. Build a church and it will overwhelm your highest steeple. So sit back, relac one corner, and be.
"I cannot see you in Church. Ever."
Me to Christian (ironically)
And it's true. These past 4 months have found me finding a little more of myself, more certainty and strength. This has lead to an outpouring of my heart and soul into the wonderful people around me. Let me share my walk and my faith and the nuggets of truth that I pursue! But I find, that at the end of the day, if any decide to take this journey with me, it would not start with The Sinner's Prayer. And not just for the fact that this would be an impossibility, it would also make my stomach turn.
But truth and love are too powerful to be shut out by any construct that man can make. Build a wall and it'll seep through your inevitable cracks. Build a church and it will overwhelm your highest steeple. So sit back, relac one corner, and be.
