lift my head, burn my feet, clear my eyes

swinging fists left then right

clawing at the air like it's an enemy holding all my answers. 


we're a fighting kind 

wrestling; our language


monday i'm burned 

tuesday, bruised and sent out to run 

wednesday flung into thursday and so on


until sunday morning 

i wake outside of time

under the willows in a southern white home  


balm covering my flesh 

the imprint of resurrection on my chest 

for i was rescued and 

tended to 

in the night. 


and you rise beside me like the foyer of a white museum

this grand presence, this giant space 

traveling always with me 

hovering in my line of vision.


particles rise above the surface of the 

waters that you are 

and tell me what i haven't been thinking. 

for your ways are not my ways 

so again, i wrestle 

but now inside your giant space.


but there's a great tension with the other winds that follow me -

i swing at them for answers 

i muddle their messages into my own balm that i believe will heal my wounds


and if not, at least pacify me

for i have quite an affair with highs and relief.


your space that speaks

is like a lion curled up beside an insect  

giving it all its knowledge, telling it all its ways and secrets,


asking its advice

with no regard 

for class or height.


you crawl inside the questions with me, 

push me off my ledges and involve me in your living. 

you lay the cosmos on the floor of the earth for me to wrap up in. 


i pull the stars up over my eyes 

and forget to thank you, for instantly 

i think they’re mine.  


and when i tend to lock myself in closets where the horizon disappears, 

all i see is one foot in front of me,  

your vision tumbles off the edge of the atmosphere,

rolling over all the ages and the people 

with a heavy care that fills my room, slides down my walls 

and shakes me in my sleeping. 


you push me into the void 

where i wouldn’t have gone

but where i'll know your name

like my mother's voice. 

and you show me your heart and transform my choice. 


but with you too, i feel hit with sun's fire 

on the right of my face.

burned and bruised, i’ll wring my hands into dust 

as the tension with you works to fill my heart’s graves. 


and i’ll swing for answers in all the wrong places.


you’ll find me beaten by the winds again 

and bring me back into the ring with you 

where there’s one thousand dimensions, you show me the truth. 

and we’ll roll together in this human conversation 

under the sky of your final word, your eternal vision. 


we run and roll for miles and miles 

and when i collapse, i roll my eyes and you smile 

and i won’t understand you

but you’ll follow me forever; 

and i'll begin to trust you; to choose your ring

and you'll teach me 

for eternity.