Maybe it is because we know
even the atheist cries out, “Why God!”
on his most broken day.
I am gone away, in part, since your passing.
I have no beginning without your home,
and in your end, I am gone away.
When you would sing, I would listen and look
up into your eyes before I had the word
‘beauty’ to shine up at your face.
All my words came from your first
“I love you.” The foundation of my language
is your embrace.
I know the meaning of the word, not just
in the breakdown of sounds, but by your
relentless pursuit of my heart.
You were a force, and the wind has not died
since you’ve gone. The trees are permanently
bent from your crushing blows.
You dared me to love greatly; you lavished me
with praise. Everything I am is you and you are
everything to me. A home is not a building,
made of wood and nails. A home is not this place
or that place where we lived. A home is you,
my mother. You are my home.
I am somewhat of a deity.
Not in a mighty sense or as bright as God’s shining light.
But I am a deity in the form of understanding.
I can see where people come from.
I can see the pain of where they have been and I’m able to factor that into my view of them.
I’ve noticed that other people don’t seem to have my superpower.
They have been so blunted or splintered from fear or hurt, that they can no longer look at their fellow man (who might think differently than them) with the same sort of familial lense.
But I can.
I see my brothers and sisters.
I see every living thing too.
The mistakes and quick tempers.
The mountain tops and bitter valleys.
I take it all into account, which would make me a pretty good judge, but I don’t want to reign down decisions on my family.
I want them to see how closely related we all are.
How when we help with our right hand our left one benefits.
That we are God’s body – running and falling. Investing and squandering.
If I succeed, then we all succeed. If I fail, then we all fail.
I’m not passing on until all of you are coming with me.
I simply won’t lose a single, solitary one of my people.
This is my heart, for all living things.
I am somewhat of a deity.
I have been gifted a superpower.
I haven’t written in a while.
My hands almost forgot what to do.
The busy things have gobbled up,
my time and strength again.
I have now settled
into a new home after five years dwelt
in a little room with white walls,
to a new room, grander.
I have stayed within the city limits,
though I changed my zip.
From one University’s lawn to another,
Don’t worry, I won’t lose my crosstown allegiances.
Truth be told, I wasn’t sure
how my mind would rest a few boroughs away.
I was a skeptic, muttering un-niceties
Under my breath while I moved
boxes twice my girth (a hard thing to imagine)
up and down, up and down staircase steps,
with no end in sight it seemed.
I swear when I get rich,
I’m going to sit in a beach chair
pointing to young, burly gentlemen
that my shit should go a little to the left.
Cocktail in my hand, cigarette in the other.
My body aches from packing my things
into cars and pickup trucks,
I wouldn’t (Well, I Would)
wish it on my seventh grade english teacher
(otherwise known as my worst enemies).
We’ll see what this move does to my psyche,
I’m still not where I’d like to be, but a change of place
could welcome some unforeseen magic.