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Moses continued. “But, Lord, no heart could be more despairing than mine”. And God replied, “then I am where you are”.
In a small room where God comes to cry. The candlelight flame & the radio
on the table made us a family of five.
Even in the dark our voices were seen but unable to catch
I am tired of being a curtain to a wind
The difference between Jesus & I is that He grew up with his family.
Christ too, like me is from a descendant of depressed men.
Blessed are some nights & you lie in it & want to have the virgin
Mary as your own mother for a day
You want to return to where you left your body
You rather lose God than lose your attraction to this feeling.
You want to die & you’re waiting on the day this darkness will scrub you clean.
I have seen a night that split open & the candle light flame growing into tree branches.
I want to walk to the river and join the queue crawling into the sea.
What is more historical about saving yourself in your own body when it’s already dead?
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While God rested, Adam & Eve created sickness
& because the Lord works in mysterious ways, we have bodies born only for sickness.
The Earth rotates on its sadness.
The sun in the rear mirror waited in the parking lot alone.
This hospital bed gives hints how people die
The doctor’s hands flooded with blood even God was afraid of hernia surgery
& this God will be replaced with me
The room will smell like some sickness my great grandfather, my grandfather & my father had faith in.
This is life, I count my life with rosary beams & my father tried to
convince a man to buy his sickness
There’s something different of my skin where night returns
from its dream on Jacob’s ladder.
Whenever a boy survives hernia he gets familiar with death
I am floating, my voice had ripened into rust, & in my mouth is the taste of death. My skin had learned to unglue itself from my bones.
Poems © Jeremy T. Karn
Image by geralt/Mocho from Pixabay (modified)