Sleep winds its tortuous way
Difficult to find.
Are there pools of water here?
Tell me, my dear, is this an illusion or a lake
Or perhaps the Jordan
With the Promised Land on opposite banks.
Did I imagine being so close to drawing in its waters?
They say death is always near
And the water that is life enfolds in oblivion.
“Teach me to do Thy will for Thou art my God.”
My soul draws nigh unto Sheol.
In Italy, she sang.
In Italy, land of persecution and opulence
The first time I saw a baptismal fount
And a saint.
Whispers reverberate off of stone walls.
Praying, but we cannot read Italian.
I saw all of you overlooking the hills
But I could only see them in my mind.
Do you not know everything approaches the End?
What if it is bright today
And I am shrouded
“Breath,” she said, and I screamed as she held me
And the rest of you went to church unsure.
“My face, mom, isn’t normal. My face is half falling off.”
Pray for me.
When I pull away embrace me tighter
For I cannot stand on my own two feet Or walk without a cane
I cannot dance
Be near to me, O be near
For I cannot see you
Though I spread out my arms and feel nails in my feet And am too aware.
Open mouth, face contorted Helps to ease the pain.
Stop and look, oh stop and look But do not mock
In the East Christ does not show pain.
I am neither living nor dead
But oscillate between sleeping and waking
As one dream between another.
Do you love me? Would you tell me?
Would you let me know I exist
As more than a ghost.
Would you swaddle me for like an infant I cannot think
Would you carry me I cannot walk
And speak for me I cannot speak
And drink for me I cannot yet partake.