the words come too fast for my hand
His hand
His hands are bleeding and He smeared them on my prayer,
my paper, blurring the page- running the ink
He smeared them on my face, my neck and chest, stomach, legs
down and in between
He put them in my eyes, down my throat,
in my ears
and said, "Put your ear to the sky and listen my darling, everything whispers I love you"
He told me that in a poem and a song.
I felt safe
and I shared too much
Because I know I don't have to carry these sins any more
Because I know I don't have to burden other people with what I have done in the past
it's in the past
paid for.
transaction complete
making in obsolete to vomit my guilt in heaps
on my friends laps, in my family's hair
So God gave me a beat poem
and He took it and He put His hands on it, all over it
and turned it red
