The fruits of the spirit

So you thought

this heartbreak

would let up

that first draft

left a door open

And

with all that you had,

walked out

After years of work

you're tired

it would take a miracle

to start again

Somehow you did

and found yourself

learning to use

the ache

for more

You loved it into poetry and

mixed in peace through watercolor

It sprinted out with joy

at the end of a run

Welcomed some new friends

to share a holyday

And served that sent-home-slice

of Chocolate Pecan Pie

Lonely moves

Towards alone

And embraces

the heart

first

Wherein lies

the fatal

error

The patience a kindness

learned to offer the self becomes

fidelity with a presence too

good to be true

And so you're there and back again

Despised and rejected, was it?

This acquaintance of grief...

When it knocks

again

You invite it in

to sit at the table

like a long lost friend

"What do we do now?"

It asks

and You reply,

"We keep

making beautiful things"

The Table

A poem for my beloved.

You built it again

like so many things

each time better

(that's how you hope)

The one before was lighter

but warped from keeping water

that it needed to let go

Your frame was good,

we kept it in the move

then twisted together

assembling a skeleton

set alone in a dining room

With nowhere to eat

for so long

you found different pieces

laid them down

pierced and bound across

in patience they dried out

Those seated at the table

do not know

it's hollowed underneath

from heavier things

A testament of youth

and emptied hearts

still saying:

Welcome

Ps 23:5

Devotion

Am I supposed to want you every morning? 

This heart is virgin to joy

but the hymen's broken

by Fathers of Faith

who merely traded hookup hearts

for Sunday stages

They stand

behind the pulpit

bending congregants

to (their) fervor and (your) will

Commending the dailyness

inseminating naive wombs of souls

with doctrine

violating the sacred message

that is in an empty tomb

So I left

god is N O T H E R E

I AM unfaithful

grace in a b a n d o n m e n t

formless and void  

is more like a heart of flesh  

than these elders

have ever known

The absence is welcome

I don't want you

How could I 

when I've never even been

a p a r t  

is it that odd

for the woman to say

no?

Did your spirit overwhelm Magdalene from the torture of seven

to fill her with just one more? 

Church like pimps finding lovers for their holy harem

The voice inside me calls

B E W I L D E R

So I run to the desert

and realize not mine

but your devotion

to leave

me

a l o n e