open fiercely. open gently, the womb.

abby asks if it is hard being a soldier.

what the poem said in the end
was strangely prophetic.
               a righteous heart?
i think of the word father & the
emotions in its wide places.
all the travail pieces for this poem going into
transformations.
translations, as if someone, you,
awakened a sensory searching of location of
my faithfulness.
where my affections should be:
sand, leaf & sacrifice unified in ground warfare
realities. there has to be the harvest.
it’s not hard. it’s laughter & love. in between, a love
               light & easy. without limits
every day to this poem, the people come.
               symbols in the dreams of
every person. a laughter genuine, small & loud.
you cannot lie you’ve not thought of sand.
everything you’ve given out of your
personal fields of universe. before you came to—
this rippling; water & pulse.
how that the first altar erected in the earth
               was carrying
     a breath a name a voice the
lord’s sentence like rays of light by evening devotion.
in the sand, there are diverse kinds
               of operations
eroding the earth to reveal, the holy of holies.
the lessons of faithfulness taught in
the place of prayer & the technology
of how blood opens ancient gates. let the old poems end
here, is the instruction i receive. the old life,
the distance test it takes the leaf
to rest between travel time
& the dry season.

open fiercely. open gently, the womb.

they open the receipts of stuff paid for
& read & cheer & mourn & herald the names of every fallen
               soldier, priest & child.
seed comes to the poem again, first as
               a word of conception & cycle—
but how much did it cost in the market?
               blood
the software of happiness. of future night visions.
yes, as black & white & coloured fields of universe
speaking to me, of
               spiritual expenses.
to this abby, i say that you & i, are the souls of tiller-man & wisdom.
               precision.
planting conception & cycle;
proclaiming,                      the decree of abraham:
in the hill of the Lord, it shall be seen. the nameless ones.
the new places in father.

hills.
burdens.                      sacrifices.
stars.            gates.            revelations.
women.

what does it take to be the picked one. the small &
the genuine. or a righteous heart?
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Poetry © OsyMizpah Unuevho
Image by Pexels from Pixabay