Was in church today, my shoulders grew heavy.
It is a place for respite. The leaves of my pockets
are dried, I dropped the last of it there today
’cause it was lost. It points to the lines between
the red sea and the devil. It lost its mind there
where my burdens could also be found.
The blessings were heavy still, they smelled
of heavy waters that grew too thick. Oil poisoned
their birth. It was their source. Today I search
for the wonder-ness that blessings offer,
it is a church thing. The preacher’s face was weary.
We must have made him sick. Or his heaviness
too strong to quench our thirst. We’re all thirsty.
We bless the Lord for today. It is probably
our last meal. Those that wrote spoke of glory days.
They were fugitives then. Their voices were poison
to poisons. Their fangs stay thick. They own
the battlegrounds. It is what they live for.
But the guns now have an ear muff. It screens
their noise away. It is their filter now.
They are the thick waters that stay us down.
Someday we shall swim our eggs and flow
our waters, we shall loosen the mufflers that grow
their ears thick. We try today still, in the face
of toxics. We look the barrels starring eye for eye,
as though we shall frighten. But we fight back.
We look it in the eyes and say, not today.















Photo by Agung hendri on Unsplash