Benign Bliss Burn
The kindling catches where opposites meet
light shadow bitter sweet the indrawn breath
before the plunge my ribs crack open like a seed
split by its own green urgency this is not death
but something rawer the body saying yes
to its unmaking watch how fire gentles
what it takes the way August burns the valley brass
and still the grasses bow grateful every particle
remembers its first fusion that stellar Yes
before the cosmos learned the word for No
So when your hand finds mine in the downpour
when the charge between us grounds and grounds again
I recognize this the lightnings tender violence
the hearts insistence that all breaking is a door
we are the rain becoming steam becoming rain
each form a forgetting each forgetting deliverance
The blaze says soften the wound says more
and breath by breath I learn the ancient discipline
of burning without smoke of heat that holds no scorn
of standing in the fire until the fire is worn
Forgiveness feels like a lonely dance
What to do when drama’s veils go down
Hands must be dropped in repentance
To be free, only I can slip off this gown
Unforgiven I acted as an unimpeachable
I wore out the hands of others justified
Without palms, forgiveness is reachable
Empty scarlet letters is tossed aside
Forgiveness grants a place uninhabited
Two steps back, the next step is always new
By the grace of God I’m deemed talented
He turns the fullness of shame into dew
Forgiveness is a seed receiving the light
I resist trusting soil, water, and sun
The empty space above is where it’s right
Hiding dormant, nowhere for me to outrun
Forgiveness feels rawer than useless raging
No more a martyr's dance, just pure suffering
***
Luke 23:34
Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up his clothes by casting lots
How much mucus can one head hold!
I hate this stupid winter cold.
Quite a bit, or so it seems,
cause head’s leaking more than dreams.
Every cough just wracks my body,
someone grab me a Nyquil toddy!
Throat is rawer than a country road,
voice is squeaky like smashed toad.
Good thing don’t keep a shotgun round,
cause I’d sure put me in the ground.
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