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The Weight of it

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I want to tell you that I love you like the sun, and the stars     That the very thought is like a black hole in my chest,        Threatening to consume me, and you, and everything     Heavier than the earth itself And yet it is light   It is warmth and heat,       Exploding out through all of the gaps in me    I am all fission, and gathering storms,   And in the middle is love, heavy, so heavy I cannot hope to lift it Perhaps one day my skin will burst with the light of it   All of my atoms will give way with one final sigh And I will no longer have to carry you, carry me    Love will have won, and I shall be no more I love you like water   Like the rapids approaching a great waterfall    The current is so fast, I could never hope to swim   I am adrift, pulled down, pummeled by it I am a small plastic cup held under, hoping to show you    All the water that the river ...
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Holy Saturday

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Jesus and I are really similar     because I too  cried when I prayed on Good Friday     I cry every time I try to pray.  cry when I even think of prayer, try to reach out to a hand I have always found extended.     When I tried to wish a friend happy easter. All I found were tears.  can’t find rest here; Good Friday doesn’t feel right. Easter feels worse. Saturday is all I’ve got.       How can I celebrate death’s destruction when I’m still in the grave? can’t find faith. Everything I’ve ever hoped or believed for is dead all around me.       Gospels? I can’t escape lamentations.  am here with Jeremiah. We scream, and scream, and no one listens.     My bones are on fire but I would rather burn than speak.  am hunted in my dreams. I wake over and over, my heart racing, scream on my lips.    When I close my eyes, I’m back in Saturday. Back in hell. Back in the grave.  don’t ...
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On death, marking an anniversary.

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      In my 27 years of life, I have become well acquainted with death. We have met in hospital rooms, on highways, in my sickbeds and bathrooms. The more we meet, the more I get a sense of what he looks like, the faster I recognize him in our next encounter.  The thing about being human, is that we all live like this. We all live, knowing that death is near. We have spent lifetimes and industries attempting to eliminate, outlast, or outrun death, and yet still we see him out of the corner of our eye. Like humans, Death is an endurance predator. He is patient, and will follow until we run out of breath. In the west, our response has largely become an attempt to pretend we do not see him. To flee from any and every reminder of his shadow looming over us, in the hope that perhaps we will be the first to escape, or at least to find peace and fun until our time comes. And yet in order to do this, we must cut out any mention or notion of his reach, including those he has ...
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