Long Distance Fault

My back warms

against a screened

in fire. I think of my wayward

distance between You and I.

How many days I’ve disregarded

Your promise: Peace I leave with

you, My child.

How I do not see this amongst

warring trenches between my heart

and mind. One says, be still & know.

The other screams, no, no, no you

must do something worthy to make

those seeds underfoot grow. Water

and sunlight, drink or warmth, they

need you. Don’t wait for Jesus’ time

frame to make those Magnolias

blossom come next spring. Smell

the sweet perfume now, now, now.

November will bring silent wither,

freezing goodness beneath chilled

soil. You better hurry along now

before all your dreams burn out,

and you die along with the

catchphrase people couldn’t help

branding you: she couldn’t handle

divine approval. Such a fool.

I can’t break my mind’s thought

train, no doubt conducted

by the serpent. I know he has no

hands, not to mention You’ve

crushed his scaled body underfoot.

He somehow keeps pulling

the whistle, warning the pulsing beat

You spoke into the empty womb.

Bleak with the question: when shall

she come?

I came three days past

mid April bloom, unaware the blood

darker than these orange flames,

meant a well wish You would carry

my lame to boast Your never end.

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