taste

The body was felled,

the tree of life broken at last,

the fruit we tasted his bitter last supper.

as always, redeemed

again, returned

to this blank desert of horrors

to prove that there was a Promised Land

somewhere. Our forty years has not ended.

so we are pulled in two,

reeled in by the death, the inner evil

just to whet our lips with glorious water

that is blood, from the slain Rock

we drown in his death/we savor his life.

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spread eagled

a people addict choosing to be alone,

to work, pressing forward

schedules conflicting, rarely speaking.

hearing whispers of the most wonderful time spent with friends.

faith, don’t fail me now.

the excitement of knowing that you are out there

that you finally want to speak and listen

delights me silently

knowing that there is hope –

I have a chance. I really do.