{ another broken psalm. }

save me by the blossoms
by bike rides and clean laundry
the fresh fruits eaten by morning
the sweat of my brow.
and the sweet words of night.

pray for me. as a father.
as the farmer
sifting hands
through the parched soil of spirit
on the hottest days of the year
pressing taught and tanned
face and fingers
into the corroded earth within me.
your breath is mineral.
breathing out and into dirt
taking in malignancies

sleep there.

rest your head upon my heart.
hum unto its beatings.
and beneath everything
the folds of my thoughts
the darkest parts
cause the sweet sting of love
to infiltrate my dreamings.
lacing your hands with my nerves
squeezing through the sinew
and scratching at the pit of my stomach
where all the old blood lies

every rib is yours
that you could break
if you wanted.
flush through the arteries
be my true synapses

building a home
where the old stood

oh, i am reminded

constantly.
and made new by the sun.
.
.
.
i rode home on my bike. it was late afternoon. peering out at blinding sun. i am a woman weeping to the Lord. and hoping no one notices. that no residence happen to be looking out their kitchen windows as i pass, to see my face contorted. painful to the point where i speak aloud my longings. please, please, i pray, i am so alone. and it is fine. and it is good that i would have this time to become so reliant on a power not mine own. except sometimes, although rarely, it seems i can't function without the help of others, who also love You. i say oh, i want to speak of Your wonders. but there is no one to talk to. and i ride my bike home crying drinking whiskey.

where have all the friends gone? the ones that praise. i felt i tried to keep them, in my own ways, despite my follies. i felt that if they loved You, they should love me as well. and embrace me like a sister. that although i lacked so much, they were still called to love me for what it's worth. but they all went away. so i clung to the world and whatever seemed to care. i think about it now. i think about throwing jelly beans at apartment windows bearing brothers who could have leaned out and said, "come up! you are welcome here!" but no one ever did. they left me smoking cigarettes at the bottom of the stairs. was i wrong them. did i distort so much? i feel hurt, why does the world continue to hurt the few feelings i have left. i know there is a Greatness looking out for me, but while i am so separated, i wish i could rejoice with someone. and at moments like these, i want to cuddle with my mother, and have her tell me everything will be okay.