Archive for January 27th, 2011
She holds a soft landing place, lifts my spirit out of heavy rock.
She tells me this will not last forever, that I am not stupid,
that I am smart enough not to think I am that stupid.
She tells me that my prayers are not defective.
It seems that a god or a genius should be able to conquer
the mess that is I, but she assures me they can’t, I can’t.
She tells me that we might not fix me but that I am good broken.
Only real angels love you when you’re broken
and do not require that you be fixed.
Bad devils want to smash you into a plastic
doll who can survive earth and her people.
She reminds me that I am not pottery.
She knows that I am more broken than pottery could ever be,
but she tells me that I won’t cry forever, that pain does not kill.
She tells me that if we get desperate, we can fry me,
but we are not that desperate. I am good broken for now.
Incredibly rare, but it happens.
My angels crawl into people
I encounter for only a few moments.
Three or four humans consecutively
have massive smiles.
and greet me
as if they love me,
and there is no apparent reason.
There is love spilling from them
like bearnaise sauce at a furious boil.
I’ve submitted this for Jingle’s Potluck with the theme of Peace, Relaxation, and Spirituality.
I wrote a poem long, long ago.
It was good.
There were fork tines and some maroon.
My heart was delicately spread on the paper.
My heart observed herself and she said
it was good.
I’ll never be able to do that again.
I cannot duplicate the accident.