Smithing

 The key to my heart was lost--

so much had happened before.

It once was left in the door.

It once was kicked onto the floor.

It sat there for days;

no one bothered to pick it up.

it was jammed one time 

the wrong way

and twisted.

The last few times

the key seemed bent,

and my heart resisted.

At long last I went 

and changed the lock. 

It might be a nasty shock--

but next time--

I have learned,

the right to hold this key

will be earned.

The Pious Pilates

 Was his blood even cool

before you dipped in one accusing finger

to paint his character

assassin-red?

And did his self-sacrifice

say nothing to you

of anyone else

that ever bled?

You find the cross

convenient to wear

but watch a fallen man

saying it is

not yours to bear.

You have found your feet

to stand for a lie--

it is the same as

condemning a man to die,

not once,

 but twice.

frozen in death,

destroyed by ice.

You carry nails in your pockets

seeking candidates for Calvary

and wash your hands so publicly. 

Anathema. 

Anathema.

You never-whitened sepulchers,

let the blood stain you

forever.

Revelations

 She told her secret to anything

that would never breathe word

to a soul, because the truth pushed

from her ribs, flooded her throat,

coated her tongue--

but could not be heard 

for all the world.

It was only true. 

She told the moon

and it turned its face and buried

her secret for her 

in the tide.

She told the sun and it 

blushed to hear, and

made fog from the 

morning dew.

She told the stars that were so far away

it would take them forever to hear--

but somehow, they already knew.

And she found herself

telling the God she didn't believe in,

so she could hold her secret

in prayer, at least,

if she could hold him nowhere else.

Faith exists for truths

like these,

when there is nothing 

you can do.

The View from Here

 There is a door

I don't want to close.

Nothing will come of it,

I suppose,

but when I find myself

with little to do

I look through it and 

admire the view.

And every once in a while

a warm breeze

blows through.

Conversationally

 I'm

never knowing just what

I've said

or what you really think;

I'm stuck trying to read

between the lines

written in invisible ink.

I've crossed some boundary,

unaware--

wondering how to get things

square--

or maybe nothing happened at all,

and you don't really care.

Manifesting

 I am moving

the heavens into alignment

but trying to prevent collisions

considering all the futures

created by my decisions,

trying to dream responsibly

about impossible things,

and generally, still

up in the air

about the changes

my dreams bring.

Kintsugi

 I may have mended my cracks

with gold,

but the point was not to shine,

but to mend

the cracks

so that I could be 

refilled.

The shine

is a bonus.