I’ll die
with a hymn of praise on my lips
to the God I found
not between the pages of a book
but swirling in the air around me
steeped in the light
of a blazing sun that burned
holes in my retina if I looked too long.
The one whose name
remained a mystery
scrawled on the spiral staircase of my DNA
seeping up through my cells
to whisper along the surface of my skin
silently uttering
the secrets
of the universe.
Throw words into the wind,
my God told me.
Toss poems into the streets
like candy
at a parade.
Let them fall where they may
take root
in soil
and sand
and sodden paper cups.
Let love spring from your lips
always.
Embrace the night.
Marry the stars.
Let the moon
draw her fingers
along your soft throat.
Be gentle
when you hold
a swath of life
between your palms
for this fur
this grass
this stone
is my home.
My God kisses me awake
each morning
whispering
Wake up, child
and be wandering wonder.
My God will kiss me asleep
when my eyes close
for the last time.
The shimmering world
behind my eyelids
will explode
engulfing my shining soul
in its true home
drowning lingering shards of fear
in never ending
Burlesque Press 