Soulstice

Jan 5
1 min read

Who was it taught me

that truth was in the roots?

Ever and on alight

like clockwork

Sure that this time I'll find myself

neath the ashes, in my bones

A rite of my own hands crafting

perhaps

The religion of you with all its surety

In life after death

Recent Posts

See All

Metanoia

Weather comes and goes And I its patient Witness Born only by the shifting winds Or the slowly dancing stars Yet something in the middle distance stirs Singing the changing of the seasons come A

Ceasefire

This morning I woke up bleeding Again this Aged war Shallow breaths, clawing trenches in my face The dog came down to sleep Wrapped tight against himself He'd rather be near And cold My hands build a

Eucharist

once for years I asked god What to do with this love in my heart How to tend these burns To pluck these thorns once a priest from a faith not mine Said god comes not To slay suffering but to fill it w

Comments