Sweet Child, Freedom, Resurrection

Sweet Child

Every moment you tread on the Divine’s cheek

O sweet child!

You know. Deep in your silent heart, you know

It won’t speak

Submerged in patience, it waits for you  

Before the drops of doubt rain down

and the cloud of ignorance cuffs you in chains of falsity

dive in and discover, my sweet child.

Freedom

O my faithful,

I know you’re in there 

I feel your presence 

Show me your face 

So I may embrace you 

For years you have flowed

In my tears, fears, and angst

Reminding me I’m a tenant 

In your home, I carry for you 

Show me you’re real and true 

By coming out into the open

Let’s walk together to the gate

Where we may embrace  

and return to our freedoms

Your land has many paths

My feet are tired, my shoes worn

I promise to one day return 

To take you to my freedom

and ask bliss to cleanse your deeds

Resurrection

Like a lonely succulent carrying the only treasure, water,

amid swathes of dusty powder that grows into Martian mountains,

nature sprouts,

as moments,

in fields of the dead and dying.

Thoughts.

Past.

Waiting.

Praying.

For sweet nectarine bubbles to emerge from pores of what we wear.

Skin.

A living garment guarding the temple where we are resurrected.