my ribs are torn up from an accident i had in my sleep
tripping over an old dream from when i was younger
war remnants, my eyes are glazed over in
ghost pain
when i make a decision, i feel like i have to be certain
and i cannot retrace my steps
trembling chained to failed triumphs
it was good, they say, and that's why it cannot go.
we must learn to recognize that the best finite things eventually end up dead.
i'm swallowing doubt except it's not helping
because this ocean is bigger than my lungs
they tell me about their gods, trying to make something holy
out of dirt and fear and desire
you are worthy, is the murmuring
do you not understand that the only one worthy is He?
that is the beauty of His voice calling out to us
my rosy wounds ache as my chest expands and contracts,
but there is a peace in my heart, one that cannot be humanly produced
the blood upon his hands is not his own, and i cry
when i realize it is my own, and i cry when i realize it is Him
but it only took three days to cool the heap of coals in my throat,
and now i am tender from stepping out of old skins
winter has only begun
