Mis pies sangran mientras camino sobre espinas.
Así como lo ha hecho con otros antes que yo.
La isla de todos los santos.
St. George, St. Paul, St. John & Ringo.
Las olas serán tu guía hacia mí.
Un corte aquí y otro allá.
Si alguna vez eres tan afortunado de llegar aquí, está será tú palabra.
I am the storm.
I am the storm, who will stomp this ground until there is nothing left.
& I will not stop until my howl is heard behind every closed door.
I am the brute.
While forgotten by all, will be known by where I’ve been and where I have yet to go.
Trampling the weak, hurdling the dead, the lines are now blurred.
No nightmares, no fantasy, just bullshit.
The fogs of love, the gouge of sin, the stillness of ivory, & the solitude of man.
I’d die for my brother.
Right here, right now, right before you all.
Crossed arms wherever he may be.
My blood runs through his like sand until we are one.
We fade away, disappear, dissipate and are gone.
When they had me on puppet’s strings, I yelled and screamed: “No! No! You’ve got it all wrong! I’m a real boy! Just like you.”
But they showed me no mercy. They called me a monster & made me one.
I can never unsee what the bird’s have shown me.
I’ve tried.
In my past life, I was dead. In this life, I was dead. & i was dead, dead, dead.
Eventually, I would surrender to faith & take the ninth step.
A King, Queen, Jack, 10 & 9 on the table, my hands bearing 2 & 7.
The cards read, “I was born into a shadow I can never outrun.”
All this to say:
You will never get the best of me. Even if you wished me ill everyday you walk on ancient soil, you will never get the best of me.
Your olives grow from rotted roots.
I hold in my heart the hope that one day you find redemption.
You live, you love, you hurt then let go.
Unbeknownst to you all, I’ve heard the birds.
They tell me you mistake their mourning as “song.”
I forgive you & show you the mercy they have shown me.
CRUXIFIX
Overcome with guilt, Judas hung himself from a tree
Until the white flowers blushed red.
Nothing we ever do is alone.
As a man walked through Golgtha. he fell three times.
The first was his dog. Who stubborn and set in her ways, ran. Blind in both eyes, she knew this land as hers.
The worst part of my day is opening my door and you not being there.
But still I look.
The second was his grandma.
Here lies our rock.
Withering by the day, her garden just doesn’t grow like it used to.
Every morning I use the mirror my grandma would use when she would comb her hair, or at least what was left of it.
I wonder how long she knew & why she hadn’t said anything.
Knowing her, that’s just how it was going to be.
The fluid in her lungs rattle.
Descansa, Tere.
The third was my ego, as I fell to my knees and admitted that this cross is too heavy to carry on my own.
In the heat of the summer, I prepared a rope for where I would hang.
Out of sight, out of mind.
I took my final sip of wine from a sponge and became the pendulum for my own farewell.
His mother watched in horror as he asked that he be welcomed into his with open arms. My mother grieves.
