Faith, Health, and Other Musings
May our minds flourish with creation, and may our hands never deny its expression.
This pandemic
has taken peace
(however much of it we had)
and put in its place
a constant, unrelenting
pain,
— somehow shockingly swift
and sadistically slow —
creating a sort of global wartime,
that makes us yearn for
the things of comfort:
a mother’s embrace,
a lover’s touch,
a child’s messy kiss,
and corona,
this cruel, ironic burden,
has made those
the very weapons of its war.
(where do we find
rest
when the war is in
our homes?)
And I guess
we’re all
edible,
letting ourselves be
(or yet being able to stop from being)
devoured by our
expectations,
environment,
and
egos,
being swallowed whole
by the earth
and its many woes.
“I would do
everything for you”
sounds romantic
until someone
asks you
to do it.
As long as
the sun warms our skin,
the flakes give it chill,
and the fire scars it,
it is the same.
We’ve never
just been
beings of
how,
but things
of why.
I’ve been terrified
by things many
but nothing
has shaken me
like
how much
I love you.
Written words
are lovers,
climbing into your heart
and changing
who you’ve
been.
“What do you have to offer me?” she asked.
Nervously, I answer:
“I function within an economy
of words,
and I can offer you
a library
of books
written about the way
you look tonight.”
Can you beleive
how they mock me
for the way that I speak?
“Logan uses big words now.”
There’s nothing so
beautifully individual
as one’s pattern of speech,
the path to self-expression,
the words that hang on your lips,
whispering to the listener
the secrets about who you are
and where you’ve been.
It’s ok if I’m sad,
but weird if I’m morose or sullen.
It’s normal if I’m happy
but too much if I’m euphoric.
I won’t reduce my language
just so that you like the sound if it.
(I don’t, and would not, hurl insults at another’s self-expression, and I won’t carry shame — or ignominy, if you don’t mind — for mine.)
Faith, Health, and Other Musings 