Deconstruction Part I

Oh, wanderer nearing the precipice!
She disarmed all the clues;
Dismissed the premonition
That you'd abandon her for
"Truth".

The guttural knowing has lost its age.

And there is no spirit warming neck hairs in the
Sound of Jesus' name.

You said you'd "bernie to the moon" with her;
Nap in the presence of the noon with her...

Happy alligators bathing in God's delight;

Claiming miracles over their wombs.

You promised her larks and battleships;

That she'd be seen and fully known-

Orphans tracing kingdom banisters, 

And the thread-work of their thrones.

Now, the black-tea night hovers over.

She feels chills at your apprehension.

She hides herself behind walls of words

Holding banners of ambivalence. 

The words of the ass grow silent.

The peel of the morning-far.

She's pillaging for Truth below John's headrest 

The Deep is steeped in the mouths of forgotten jars.

She doesn't believe in God anymore. 

But never questions if He exists.

She walks into the vacant night beside Barsabbas-

Two faint, forgotten saints
Too soon dismissed. 

--

Father, 

 These are the feet of the exiled

 That longed to bring good news.

 Fraying fingers unleash their captives.

 Lord, save me from what I have loosed.