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my heart is a minnow
tragicbubble

Jesus, there must have been a reason why
 1
your followers edited out eighteen years of your life.
 2
You must been too human. You probably sang
 3
down the streets of Bethlehem with your friends,
 4
alcohol and vomit a crusted glaze on brown sandaled feet,
 5
voice a righteous drunken smear on your immaculate record.
 6
 
 
Yeah I can see why they had to pretend
 7
you never experienced flaw. Ignored
 8
the years when you doubted your holiness,
 9
rocking back and forth in your lover’s arms
 10
asking: why me? Why this fated providence of sacrifice?
 11
 
 
Jesus when you finally came to accept it
 12
did you really believe? Messiah I beseech you,
 13
tell me: are you really our saving grace?
 14
Were the crusades sanctioned by your smile?
 15
Do your hands ever ache sometimes
 16
under the burden of all those bodies piled high?
 17
 
 
Jesus Christ what I really want to know
 18
is how did you leave your family?
 19
Tell me, how did you turn from your wife’s garnet sea tears?
 20
Did you run from the safety of her arms
 21
so fast your feet left cross-sized tracks
 22
in their wake? Did you forget your children
 23
like my father forgot us? Like luggage
 24
full of winter clothes and love letters
 25
he never bothered to pick up?  
 26
 
 
The Sunday after my father left
 27
I stared at a cathedrals rendition of your glory,
 28
gaunt body strung up like high tops sneakers
 29
snagged on electrical wiring
 30
and it didn’t mean what it was supposed to.
 31
I wasn’t shaken to my knees in quest for absolution
 32
or forgiveness. Jesus, you were just another adversary,
 33
another man I couldn’t trust.
 34
Only you were held so high up I had to break the fists
 35
stacked in my spine just to look at you.
 36
And I will never bend for another man like that again.
 37
 
 
You are just another father, lord,
 38
trying to divine the future from the tidal pools
 39
I carry in my palms. If you are only looking
 40
for the right answer, pluck the sea glass minnows
 41
of doubt from within my ribcage and set them swimming
 42
past my toes. You of all people have the strength
 43
to remove the doubt from self, shift the boulder from the mouth
 44
of the cavern and rise again. Instead you hang
 45
solemn from grey walls, the watermark
 46
over the family portrait of a savior
 47
who never came home.
 48

22 Mar 07

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Comments:

look to the Church of the Psion

dont look for clues in movies
 — Mongrol

very nice poem, tragicbubble.

only thing, why the repetition of the name?
it was the only thing that bothered me. without the repetition, the nature of understated-ness might just be a lot stronger...? no?
 — varun

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