Church

This is the thunder of prayer after four years of silence

This is the old songs in a new mouth

Fumbling over words sometimes

Breaking and cracking out of tune sometimes

This is the cathedral’s echo

Preacher moan

Choir clap

Believer shuffle

Angel whisper

This is silence…that is all

And how holy that can be

And how damning that can be

This is harmonizing grief

Suffering and forgiveness

When He called you out of the waters

(If He did call you)

Did you feel the ribs of the boat you are?

Run your hands over the oars?

Taste the salt of the storms?

Whatever the shipwreck

There is a blessing in this ark

We flipped our boats for a roof

Sat under coloured glass

And tried to makes sense of living…

Possible

Before you were born

You were called by everything that seemed to fit the imprint of your future shadow

Curled up into a ball

More often than not words like

Monolith

And Curator

Were caressed

Through your mother’s belly and into

Your dreaming ears

Sometimes they called you Globe

Other times World Devourer

Maybe Atlas on a good day.

When you were born

Your parents tried to condense these feelings into a name that was easier to pronounce than

The-Greatest-Hope-Our-Bodies-Could-Ever-Produce-When-We-Released-Our-Love-Through-The-Touching-Of-Our-Skin-In-The-Only-Good-Morning-That-Ever-Bothered-To-Stick-Around

They gave you a human name.

But do not let those seemingly ordinary syllables dictate your potential

You are a lifeboat made of smiles

And for all your oceans

You have not sunk just yet

So grab at life like it owes you

As if taking it in both your fists is the only way it will repay its debt to you

Use its shirt as a sail

Cast the buttons like the knuckle bones of fortune tellers

When the answers come

Do not let the boat that you are rock out its last song

Remember the days when you were only

30 percent terra ferma, 30 percent concrete and certainties

30 percent holy dirt and dust

We are all dirt and dust

Floating in the shape of people

But we contain so much more

We are all oceans and sail boats

But we contain so much more

We are all born lighthouse planets in a vast galaxy of possibility

And we contain

Everything

We are

Everything

All it takes is for us to reach out and take it.

You Should Have Seen the Lightning!

It was on the night of the ghosts’ road trip

The night the owls grew antlers

And pushed the sun back for a longer night

It sounded like the rumbling of some giant

Made of bark and stone

The kind that walked through the oceans once

In the sound

We all remembered just what song

The waves echo

Letting their engines chorus the noise

The ghosts kept driving until dawn

While I sat in the backseat

Laughing

Wildly