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Friday, February 22, 2008

Blood Remembers

- I -

Our church is a caved in place.
Beneath its dome no gold of the sun
Or silver of the rain,
Only a chilled labyrinth,
A child lost in the crowd
Searching for Biblical motifs
Where none can be found.

- II -

This skin is a chain of nip marks
And weathered-tucks; in each square mile
Its valleys trace a life-beaten geography
Of cherished tracks where you walked,
The rivers trace salty steps
To the furrows of a hidden world
Beneath the earth of my body,

Where walls once stirred,
And where love dawned like the sky,
Hopes now mute withdraw
Noiselessly, holding to its dead
With a mother's frantic lament,

Searching for some place
In the holy grounds
Of the heart for a love
Unable to commit suicide,
Dreams swing in the wind
Hung out on the gallows
Of all we said we'd be,
Unbelievers rest uneasily
On hallowed ground.

- III -

Life clashes with my rhyme;
A numbness runs back
Through the root-veins
Of this fallow land's
Desecrated beauty,
Lying pungent, rotting in
Beds we left untended,
Dead for harvest,
Its soil may forget
With the help of time,
But smouldering in red embers
The fire had run deep,
Its blood remembers.

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