Where there is smoke, there is fire, but there is no God.
Listen carefully and you might survive this inferno.
Hold your breath and don’t choke on tears.
No one is here to hear you.
You don’t recognise the shape of your skin.
Extinguish your incense; smother your flames. Burning doesn’t mean power; a bush on fire doesn’t mean you’ve found God. A fire cannot burn in the dark; a fire cannot burn without air. Fire is light; it fights the dark. They can’t exist together. The flames consume the dark. This light. This cancer. This burning lung. Tarred ventricle. Gasp. This is your prayer. You are ablaze. Perhaps God is here after all.
Here between the walls as the sea begins to break. God’s subject raised a rod to make a path – part the mass – split the body of water… split the body of… split the body… Split the body. Break the body with a rod. Beat it until it is two. Two parts; too broken. Now walk through. Escape. Slaves flee! Be free. Beat, beat, be free. Beat, beat, be free. You can’t beat God into me.
He might be here, but he is not with me.
Playing devil’s advocate or devil playing in the desert. Feed yourself with these rocks. Bow to me. Leap from this temple and trust them to catch you with their rituals and self-righteousness. Do not tempt me. Get behind me. I will starve. My body is your bread. My blood is your wine. Drink. Have your fill from these dry bones. It is for you. This is what you do. Depart, devil. Depart, demons. Depart. Apart. Restart.
In the beginning, God. Amen. So be it. The land and sea and sky and dark that was night and my mind. And light as day and dreams and hope. 66 books and we still cannot live in peace.
My tears are the water. I pour them like wine. This time they are worth more than gold. I’ve sold my body too many times to earn my worth from the hands that hold me. I have let myself go too many times, like pearl before swine. My body is not for them to cast lots and divide between men, women, fools, thieves, ghosts, lovers. My clothes will remain even after blood has been spilled, the stone rolled away.
Where are you now? The tomb is empty. The womb is empty. Virgin Mary. Quite contrary. Weighed and measured. Found wanting. Not enough. Not big enough. Not strong enough. I am David. More than a book. More than five stones to slay the monster. More than conquerors. Conquered. Captured. Christ.
You don’t recognise the shape of your skin. So I mark it and hope it’ll be come more familiar. I call courage. I call the present. I call my body mine and it is so.