Note to God
Am I wrong to desire
more than who I am?
Is this constant sense
of failure
a rock
in the stream,
diverting water
from the path I would take?
The dust of our past
draws my skin to dryness;
indeed, my tongue is captured
by the moon of your silences.
So how can I continue
to play these everyday chords
when my essence screams
with the eternal infernal emptiness
of perfection?
I wish to be baptized
in the name of Nothing,
so that none may hold onto me.
Never
again will I allow you to love me,
to enwrap me in the breaking waves
of your hair as I struggle to under-
stand; no, I will not live
again. Living safely
is living dying.
You left me;
you will leave me forever
until my land is submerged
from the blows of my sand
trying to make your ocean see.
So must I leave you,
withdrawing into the thick warmth
of solitude,
refusing to accept the cool strokes
of memory.
I will no longer listen
to the sounds of distant dreams,
far-away thunder,
directed claps of faceless applause.
I will leave this sacred space
and look for some comfort
with the pigs.