leaves

Who told you you were naked?

 

No one told you.

In a single strange moment,

the colored moving world welled up

into the colored moving world

And was.

 

trees and clouds

stones and water

creatures flashing

the chatter and songs

and behemoth curiously lifts his head

and you are

and you’re here

and it’s now.

Your eyes turn to the other eyes

and they’re shining too.

It’s both of you, now, here, together,

trembling with this greatness.

In the heat of the day, a little wind runs through.

Only the leaves shiver

and the two of you.

Your eyes meet and

you both laugh again.

It’s so much- all at once.

 

Who told you?

The voice is colder.

The words you would have to invent to say

sink back down your throat

falling back into the heart they almost came from.

The leaves you wove tear and fall and

you have to stand there-

this is naked-

both of you naked

and him waiting.

From deep in the darkening sky

a little wind runs around you all.

It’s cold- so cold.

To be this way.

 

Promise

Whatever you want.

Oh, God, please.  Whatever you say.

I’ll do it.  I’ll be good.  I promise. Please.

 

the fall

Do you delight in our weakness, Father?

Does it make you perfect?

Is it what draws your attention

Down, out of the vast and infinite

sorrow where your heart lives-

clouded like a newborn star?

Does it assuage you, for a moment,

to trip us with nothing and trigger

shocked eyes

muddy knees and hands?

Hidden

Hiding in the trees.

Where are you?

calls out One who already knows everything.

Your breath slows, chokes in your throat.

He’s smirking?

Where are you?

He’s enjoying the game.

Enjoying the heartbeat He must know

is knocking against your ribs-

as your terror convulses into purity-

as He comes near.

But then He veers off.

Perfect fear can cast out everything

whether its piss or hope  that holds you back.  And

your newly clean mind understands.

He’ll keep coming closer

circling,

At last He’ll let himself find you and stare down, gloating,

as you crescendo

and then He’ll begin.

 

As if the sky were made of giants

walking

through the deep blue sea-

 

Your limbs move-

soft as ropes of clay-

and you stumble out ot the brambles .

 

The game is over

and He hasn’t won.