Friday, March 01, 2019

The Preacher

I have been poured like water,
My words gush forth like wine
Till the heart is sere and bloodless,
And my tears are pickling brine.

I breathe air thin and daunting
A higher altitude
As I strain my understanding
And my vision is renewed.

This is my price-of-paying
Hid from the eyes of all,
Love’s thorns pressed on my forehead,
Till my pride tastes like gall.

Not with the easy answers
Not with the slick reply;
Down like a rock in the ocean,
Never to come up dry.

Straight past the shallow places
Down to the beating heart,
Where a seabed like Procrustes’
Reshapes my every part.

Then, with lips blue and stumbling,
How shall speak the way
To that place I have no name for,
Where love burns bright as day?

Yet I rejoice to be there
Assumptions all unmade
By his scarred hand held tightly:
Broken yet unafraid

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