The artist's prayer
screams forth, from the page
in an anguished cry
so that I don't have to.
It tears away
at the shadows, inside
I sweat, and I sway
in humble ecstasy
as the waves crash over me
incoherent, primal thanks
are offered up
on the altar of my bones
thank you for being
thank you for spitting in the face
of the new Normal
that king that sits on the fractured skulls
of every sad embarrassed terrified boy and girl everywhere
throughout all of time
thank you for calmly, and for casually
dethroning that robber of human freedom
and dignity
thank you for doing what I could not do
with my words
with all the powers that I have
thank you for putting words to something
that is so profound
that is so, natural, that is so, familiar
and yet so, beyond, the veil
of time and space
you are divinity incarnate, you are
a willow wisp upon the wind, you are
an anchor in this reality, for a soul that is tired and well worn
that is lost inside this prison
of blood and flesh
that is breaking its hands and its nails
banging on its cage
bleeding freely
in its frenzied attempts
to escape
calmly, casually
you hold the door open
with a sad smile, with a knowing heart
you hold that door, and you step back
and I emerge, ragged breath, shaking
unaccustomed to this newfound freedom
waiting for the cage again
may it not come
though I know that it will.
But I also know
that you will find me
once again
as you did this time
and in the alchemy of your spirit
you will offer up
a humble prayer
to free me
and
that you will keep doing that
for as long, as it takes
to set me free
for the span of all time
forevermore.
So I say, with a sob, with a glowing coal
from the fault line of my damaged soul
...thank you...
you have made me whole.
You have made me whole.
