Author: poetryfest

I remember
portobello road
where I first touched you
to draw your attention
to a beautiful façade
the passers-by
were running from the rain
the fruit-sellers
closing their stalls
I remember
the church portal
where we listened to
the warmth of silence
I remember
watching you sleep
with your lips puckered
and listening
to your deep breathing
I remember the sheet
over your hips
in a tender
outline
interesting
I can’t remember
what your eyebrows were like
I remember
the row of trees
which cut through the vineyard
the persistent wind
and the way we walked slowly
with your hand
in the pocket of my coat
listen
this may sound corny
but before I met you
there was really something missing
I remember
your letters
blaβblaufrauenschrift
which you left on the pillow every morning
while I was still asleep
I remember
how you waited patiently
for me to finish
looking at three paintings by monet
and remember
watching you dance
to music
all alone
and our long walks
in the streets around the covent garden
I remember us
in a train
tangled together, sleeping
as we travelled
or our little room
for rich tourists
above the café de la paix
too expensive but that’s what you wanted
the square
was teeming with people
I remember
the record that played
on and on
over and over again
(tom waits, closing time, I think)
I remember
holding your hand
when you were afraid
I remember
the restaurant with the name I’ve forgotten
but which I could
still find
with my eyes closed
and our silence
stretching for hours
to a bottle of wine
hell, that was an ugly silence
and this is the book
I bought that Saturday
when I waited for you to finish at the hairdresser’s
the streets were moist
with last night’s rain
or the street washers’ efforts
it was early morning
still a bit nippy
and we went
to have coffee together
but we didn’t have coffee
because we had to shout at each other a little first
so things felt awkward afterwards
I remember you
watering the flowers
singing to them quietly
so they would grow better
and how, cheeks flushed, after work,
you downed a tumbler of cognac
to which I objected
hey
have some respect
that’s good stuff
I remember
the spring in greece
when you sobered me up
with olive oil and vinegar
disgusting
you followed the advice
of the women in our neighbourhood
that’s how they tortured
their husbands
then came the summer
and the two of us, sunburnt,
lay prostrate in our room
with a big wet towel
across our backs
and we whispered: listen
the heat is so strong that it buzzes
at night
we sat on the terrace
nuzzling the cold chenin blanc
that’s when we discovered it
I look at your profile
as you take your shoe off
to shake out the beach sand
and at your foot
tiny
my god, what a foot that was
I remember
how you fought with the waiter
when he brought me the wrong drink
not the one I’d ordered
how we made love
with the TV on
a romantic movie blaring
I teach you my tongue
by rolling poetry off it
I see you
sitting on the edge of the bath
while I am shaving
you are massaging in face cream
the hydrating make-up base
whatever
I see you collecting dry leaves around the garden
only the beautiful ones;
they still fall out
from books long left unopened
I remember
when you went to another room
to make secret phone calls
I pretended to read the paper
the financial reports
god forgive me, I was so…
I remember
your dog
our puppy, rather
who came up to the bed every morning
and burrowed between us
I remember
the first time you left
I looked out of the window
into an empty street
into the night
there was a poster for a cowboy movie
across the road
the radiators were cold
the boiler in the bathroom
hissed
and
your eyes
were there as soon as I closed mine
I remember
the smell of your clothes
forgotten in the cupboard
a large cardboard box
full of photos
god, what did I do with them?
which one of my house moves
was the end of them?
I remember
quiet evenings
you painting
and me writing
or reading in the armchair
I remember
the flowers which kept arriving
each morning
suffusing the apartment
with their oppressive smell
perhaps I should have asked
who was sending them
perhaps
I remember the night sounds
your breathing
and the muffled song of the drunks
coming from below
I remember how,
when you were to go “somewhere”,
I hurried you along
so you wouldn’t be late
pretending to have no clue
and how you came back
from hospital alone
with blue
black
rings around your eyes
something needed saying
I know
as soon as I was away
you packed your suitcases
bags
toiletry bags
some of the things even spilled over
into the woven basket for the market
I remember
your silence in answer to my question
I remember
my silence in answer to your silence
I remember gazing through the window
and the sound of your key on the kitchen table
and the sound of the apartment door, opening
I remember
hitting you on the face
(all my life, my hand will follow
that trajectory)
and I remember you crying
well before impact

——

Dušan Gojkov (1965)
A poet, short story writer, novelist, essayist, radio drama director, journalist. Published fifteen books, and some poetry and prose in a dozen anthologies. Winner of some domestic and foreign literary awards.
Directed more than two hundred radio dramas and around twenty documentary tv films.
Editor-In-Chief of Balkanski književni glasnik Magazine – Balkan Literary Herald.

…

In ancient times throughout our land of peace,
An enemy came with terror, destruction, and desolation beyond belief!
Our men were decapitated and our women defiled;
Our children enslaved with torture ingrained, as the enemy went wild!

Those who fled this cruelty or were free, came together,
One by one and son by son;
We gathered under our tartan colors and clans,
For news of what had just been done.
With the pipes as our heavenly sound,
Came forth our petitions for peace and freedom, or death, shouted in screams!

It was from this beginning, which brought forth our Highlander’s dream:

As I fell into a slumbered sleep one night,
A never-ending nightmare came forth with wisdom and insight:

“Son,” said my Father, who was also a Chief.
“Your schooling is done and now;
You are a man of our Highlander clan.
It is time you stood guard over our land!”

“And, during this time of your life,
Which you offer to protect this land;
Should an enemy first appear before you, do not shed a tear;
But, my Lad, begin to play the pipes to warn us all!
Village by village, man by man, and Clan by Clan,
The Highlanders will assemble to defend this land!”

“At this time, go out and meet your enemy with a smile;
When you’re face to face and eye to eye,
Present him with the symbol of Peace, which also may be your life!
Do not despair with sadness, instinct or fear;
Should he try to end your life with a knife;
That’s when it time to fight!”

“But, Father, why are you telling me these words
And what’s this all about?” asked I.
“And, why should I come in peace or possibly die?”
“Son, you did not give up! You came forth in Peace.
With your life, being the first to die on our soil;
Bears witness to God that we were struck first!
After an enemy strikes, and should you not die,
Then, that is the time for you to fight and is our time to kill!
Live or die, your life will be avenged by other Highlanders;
Our enemies will know us as the screaming ladies from Hell!”
“Oh, my dear Son, remember my wisdom to keep you alive!
When any battle first begins, when we come face to face and eye to eye;
And, as we fight our enemies man to man and hand to hand;
Always be sure the sun is behind your back, but in the enemy’s eyes!
And, do not forget those Highlander souls taken in the past;
By reminding our enemies that we always pay back!”

“So, now it is our custom, when there is a lull in the battle and time at hand,
Take your first captured enemy and stake him to the ground.
Disembowel him, before his very eyes, while he’s still alive!
With your teeth, rip the flesh from his face and break out his teeth;
Then, cut away their manhood to stuff in his mouth.
Remember now, to gouge out his eyes!
With God’s fury our enemies are despised!”

“Now it’s time, just before he dies;
Let his last thoughts not be mercy from his god, but the mutilation of his body!
As you finally stick your sword through his skull and lop off his head!”

“Take your second captured enemy, while he is alive for all to see;
And, push a pole-stake through his mount and out his ass,
Having first, tied his hands and feet behind his back.
Tie him good, my Lad!”
“Yes, prepare a fire for a ‘feast of peace’ and roast him like a pig;
Then ask your other captives, “Are you hungry? (I love you) Eg elska thig!”
This feast is the other captive enemy’s first dinner on Highlander soil!
After they are fed, release a few of the captured as a surprise.”

“From this moment on,
They will know a Highlander’s song, are but, an enemy’s pleas and cries.
For them, it is a lesson learned late, but they can tell others of their fate!”

As this nightmare continued forth in this terrible dream,
My stomach had become sickened and my sense became dull:
During this time when my mind, as it again,
Pictured my sword sticking through another enemy skull!

“What is the meaning of all of this? We are not at war! There is peace and bliss!
My mind is picturing the terror and screams!
Why are you telling me such a horrible story and abominations to do?
No enemy would dare commit such crimes against a people such as us!
Tell me a story of peace and trust!”
Said I, to my Father, in this wildest of dreams!

“You are a Highlander, my Son!
You must remember what has happened to our people;
And, know the power of the word called Peace!
You’re to be the first line of defense on our sacred soil!
Or, when we are provoked,
Knowing an enemy wishes to bring war to our shore;
We must take our fight to them, sparing our villages, homes, families, and land,
From becoming enemy spoils!” said my Father in his reply.

“Father,” said I, “I don’t want to die or to mutilate an enemy man.
Why should I?”
I turned to my Father and looked him in the eye,
Waiting to hear what further had had to say.

“One must be more evil, than the evildoers,
To win against evil, when evil attacks!
And, these my son are the facts!” sternly spoke my Father to me!

“This Highlander’s dream has been told father to son,
By our ancient fathers to our present sons, on what to do once war has begun!
With respect to the enemy of which we speak,
The mutilation of an enemy is a warning;
To their fellow enemy comrades of their future fate, come the next morning;
They will know there’s only one place in our land,
Where we’ll allow them to dwell; When we escort them into Hell!”
Responded my Father with a very stern look,
As if, he’d memorized this story from a book!

A change of expression came across his face,
Then, a tear came from his eye, as if heartbroken.
His features began to show sorrow and hurt, before he’d even spoken.
“Son, do not think I want you to die.
There are times when men must fight!
There are also times when many of our enemies,
Learn of how we Highlanders fight in defense of our land;
They choose peace, rather than attack against a suicidal foe.
It is our custom to be the first men to fall, if death is the price for peace!
As a Highlander in battle, have no fear, as all of our clans will soon appear!

Someone will always take your place with revenge in their hearts.
We always mourn another Highlander’s death;
By our promise to fight for victory, up to our last breaths;
And, make it back before our God is ready to bless!”

“Remember to not question a Chieftain’s orders when it’s time to die;
Unless you know without doubt, his orders aren’t right.
First, let him know your concerns and demand your claims;
If this doesn’t work, then pass the hat and claim you’re insane!
Prepare for battle by painting your face such as blue in color,
And rehearse your voice to shriek, as we begin our screams!”

“Learn how to begin blowing the wind for the beautiful sounds from our pipes;
To be heard by all whom challenge a Highlander’s might!
These beautiful sounds are heard by enemies, yet, not to their delight;
But, as terror, from the wind, air, and sky that they are going to die!
If you recall, the Romans found out and they built a wall;
Whether it was to keep us in or keep us out;
They did not say, as they ran away!” Said my Father to me!

In my sleep, I began to toss and turn,
As my mind now removed me from my Father’s presence;
I now found myself in the heat of battle before my enemy,
Face to face and eye to eye, as I watched this human die!

This savagery, barbaric, abhorrent, ruthless struggle,
Now before my very eyes surely a Highlander’s fight!
There was no doubt in my mind that this was not a dream;
As I saw the bloody enemy and heard the terror of his screams!

In our battle, we pushed forward and we were fighting hand to hard,
This was hand to hand, to the very last man!
Over this attack, I was angry and scared!
This was no dream! I took time to quietly say my prayers,
I see the fear on this enemy man’s face;
I swung my sword without any Grace!

“This is a never-ending nightmare, will it ever end?” Thought I?
There was a terrifying sound with a crash and a thud!
I felt my body hit the ground!
From where it came or what it was I do not know!

Suddenly, my Father appeared in my dream!
“Am I having delusions or is this an illusion?” Thought I.
Again, he began to speak. His voice was very sweet.
“All over the world there are men such as you and me.
Who know the cost and power of the word called Peace.
And, what it means to be free!
Remember; do not waste your life unnecessarily!
Make the enemy pay and always think of new ways to win!
Be sure it will work and strive on at all costs!
Make your life worth 10, 100 or even 10,000 enemy souls.
Learn new weapons that shoot fire and rumble in the sky!
There are many people, whom seek a land of peace,
So, respect others whom have had to fight such as you or me.

You are not much different from Ivan of Rus who fought the Golden Hordes;
He too, has fought to the last man!
Learn to gather allies and comrades from only those,
Whom have never thought to be a foe,
But be sure they know the cost of peace.”

“Father,” said I with a tear in my eye.
“I am not afraid to die for my family, clan, God or King!
Having you appear and hearing your words of wisdom,
Before my very eyes, while I’m in the heat of battle,
Is some kind of blessing to me! I don’t have to understand!
You and your words are my heart and soul!”

A smile came across my Father’s face,
And he had a twinkle in his eye, as if he were proud of me!
We gave each other a last embrace.
Then, suddenly everyone in my family appeared before my very eyes!

Happiness filled my heart!
I then spoke to them all, as I said:
“Father, Mother, brother and sister,
Let me give you a huge good-bye!
Grandfather, Grandmother, my uncles and aunts,
I will miss you until the day that I die!”
I hugged each of my family and kissed them good-bye.

As a shock to my conscience, my family unexpectedly disappeared from sight!
Dazed, as I looked up to see what could be seen!
Reality struck me, as the nightmare had returned, “It’s time to fight!”
The full fury of this bloody battle appeared to be lost!
“Yes, I have time!” Thought I, as I grabbed my sword from the ground!
“We need more men!” Thought I, as more of the enemy advanced.
Striving on at all costs, I could feel the sweat pouring out from my pores,

As I again swung my sword, taking off another man’s head!
This never-ending nightmare had returned, with the stench of death!

Suddenly, music blown in from the wind, burst triumph in the air!
“What are those heavenly sounds?
Yes, more bagpipes blaring their beautiful sounds!
Where? Ah, from there, over that hilly mound!
Ah, they’re here! I knew they’d come!”

Still, I fought on! Another scream and another enemy man is dead.
This nightmare of terror! Oh, how I prayed that this was only a dream!
All of a sudden, I awoke and looked around!
“Where am I? Where are my men? Are we in a town?
Am I dead or how long was I out?
Then again, to be sure, I looked outside, round and about;

I was astonished as my neighbor waved and smiled!
As I smelled the scent of the air, then came a startling, but happy shock.
“Yes, It’s spring! And, the birds in the tree, I hear them singing!
Oh, now the church bells are ringing! Oh, silly me!” Said I,
As I now saw that my wife and children were safe in the house.

I am so relieved that our land is a land of Peace free of strife!
“Thank you Lord for this wonderful life!”
With a sigh of relief, I knew this was not a nightmare I had;
But, a pleasant Highlander’s dream!

Just then, my Son came into the room full of joy;
“Father,” spoke my Son, “I have just finished my schooling,
And, I passed with good grades!”
“Son,” said I, “Your schooling is done and now,
You are a man of our Highlander clan.
It is time you stood guard over our land!”

I suddenly realized as this was my fortieth year,
And that I am now one of the Chieftains of our Highlander Clans;
With a new generation of sons at hand!
“It’s time to pass on our Highlander dream!” Thought I.
As I began to speak the very same words,
Which my Father had told me, so many years ago!

As I have grown older, gaining more wisdom with age,
And, as times have changed to the present days;
I have learned that other nations now respect a Highlander’s dream,
Knowing the power of the word called, Peace,
By allowing Highlander’s the honor of our clan’s tartans to be worn.
As we march man by man and playing our bagpipes, clan by clan,

In parades as a proclamation and warning to all lands,
“That there is nothing to fear and that Peace is at hand!”
Yes, now there are children who giggle about our men who wear skirts!
As their parents, quietly tell them with a smile, to “Shush, before you get hurt!”

Hear what I say with wisdom and love from my heart;
There are times when Peace is costly or your very survival,
Might depend on these very words as we now part!

There are times when poetic rhymes are not so sweet;
Yet such wisdom is used as a way for us to remember knowledge and to teach!
And, let us pray, that these words only remain as a remembrance,
Of a simple Highlander’s Dream! Amen.

Performed by Val Cole

Read Poem:

Continue being you
Continue to evolve with change
Continue being true
Some may believe it’s a stain to not follow the rules
So be it
They were not supposed to continue…
Continue to navigate through the cracks and ditches
Only God knows how many the enemy tried end up with misses
Continue to elevate yourself beyond the distance
Continue being persistent to be the best
Nothing is perfect
I never seen you do nothing less
Continue to teach learn
Don’t forget where you come from
Continue to love your loved ones knowing it won’t last
Continue to seek search and ask
Where am i going
Continue to live
Continue to be
To be continued
This is not the end for me

Performed by Val Cole

Performed by Val Cole

POEM:

Is It Because I’m black, by Jermal Perkins

Is it Because I am black
Is it Because I am different from
You seen me And I seen you
We looked at each other
I seen the anger in your eyes
I continue walking down the street
It was pretty dark outside
I heard the Sirens going off
You write something down on your notepad
You get a call on your Walkie talkie
You stopped me , my heart beating fast
My heart thumping oh so fast
Wondering what I did wrong
Was it something I did
Was there something I should have done
Why did you stop me ?
Why ? Is it because I don’t look like you
That I don’t have the same skin color as you
That I don’t have the same hair color as you
Is it because I don’t talk like you ?
Why ? Can you answer me ?
Can you tell me ?
You give me no reply
You ask me to put my head on the car
I was too scared to response
What could I say ?
I sit there
I don’t answer
I set there in the dark silent
My heart dropped
Dropped right there on the floor
I was afraid to pick it up
You search me without my permission
You throw me on the car
I fall on the ground
I decided to stay down
Afraid to pick myself back up again
Afraid because you would just throw me back down again
It has happened so much that I’ve got use to it
I’ve got used to the pain, the struggle
I’ve got use to this feeling
All I could think is here we go again
Again with feeling of being so useless
I felt oh so useless
There was nothing I could do
What could I do ?
Who put you up to this ?
Did someone tell you to do this ?
Was it him over there in the window ?
Was he afraid of me ?
Was he Afraid of me because of who I am ?
Why do you keep putting me down ?
I just don’t understand
Is it because I’m black , can you tell me why ?

Njord son of Skard the Black Wolf was taught in the ways of war,
his sword skills in fighting in excellence did soar.
Njord thirsted for battle at the age of eighteen.
But for his age, he was tall, muscular, and lean.
He was raised to hate the Christian, raised to hate the church.
He heard how they’d curse Odin, his name they would besmirch.
From his father, he heard tales of their cruelty, barbarism, and rape.
How they would murder children and leave none alive to escape.
His father told him that they murdered his mother.
That they murdered his sisters and every brother.
A life of loneliness and suffering he feared was his fate,
but like a fawn growing on their mother’s milk, he grew on hate.
Njord, Skard, and his men sailed on long-ships ready for war.
With swords and shields ready when they reached the Irish shore.
Once on the beach, they raided the nearest city.
And what the Vikings did was gruesome, it wasn’t pretty.
They slaughtered children and they raped the women.
Njord believed that these horrible sins would never be forgiven.
But to his surprise, the Christians did forgive while awaiting death.
Njord seeing this, pledged to help them, even if it meant at his last dying breath.
He gazed into the sad eyes of the hiding women and children.
They were kind to him, they didn’t see him as a villain.
Njord knew now that his father was wrong,
That Skard had lied to him all along.
Njord quickly swung his sword at a rampaging Viking raider.
Killing him before he could yell at him, TRAITOR!!
Njord helped women and children to escape.
He desired a better fate.
He told them to make for the Irish shore.
To make room on the ship for the old, the sick and the poor.
But Skard and his men found out what Njord did.
A secret like this couldn’t be hid.
Skard attacked first his only living son.
Embittered by what he had done.
Skard slashed and thrust at his son with his blade.
Breaking any fatherly feelings that may have been made.
Njord parried and tried to attack back.
But Skard parried then gave him a smack.
WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME!? Skard yelled at his son.
I DID WHAT WAS RIGHT! WHAT HAD TO BE DONE!
You blame the Christians, for what you’ve done to them.
NO MORE LIES, NO MORE PRETEND!
OKAY! HERE’S THE TRUTH!, I KILLED YOUR MOTHER, YOUR SISTERS, YOUR BROTHERS!
IN YOUR CRIB, I WENT TO SMOTHER YOU UNDER YOUR COVERS!
But your Uncle Bjorn fought off my attack.
And because of this, the other Vikings turned their back.
But now because of your actions, I get to kill you at last!
DON’T WORRY! YOUR DEATH WILL BE FAST!
Intense Rage filled Njord’s heart, he lunged at his father to rip him apart.
He punched Skard hard in the face, from his hard hit’s he couldn’t brace.
He went crashing to the ground, but then he picked up his sword and swung it around.
Steel clashed upon steel, only anger and hatred for his father Njord could feel.
Slashing and thrusting their swords at a deadly pace,
Skard, with his boss shield whacked his son in the face.
Njord spit out blood, then hit his father hard back with a crack.
Now it was his turn to start his attack!
Steel once again clashed upon steel, anger, and hatred was all they could feel.
Skard slashed and thrust his sword at his son.
Hoping the battle would quickly be won,
The sound of their weapons clashing, rang through the air.
Skard attacked his son without feeling or care.
But Njord parried and lashing out slashed back.
Then with the butt of his sword, gave Skard a hard wack.
Njord quickly made his move now that Skard was dazed.
Blood filled the air in a blood-soaked haze.
Njord lopped off his father’s head.
Skard, The Black Wolf was finally dead.
The other Vikings now knew that Njord was the better man.
As fights to the death determined the leader of their clan.
With the Christians, Njord and his armies made a sacred pact.
To defend the poor, weak, to prevent their cities from being sacked.
Njord son of Skard the Black Wolf was taught in the ways of war.
But his love for helping the downtrodden in excellence did soar.

Performed by Val Cole

Written POEM:

Dante had two objectives, Pleasure and Survival, with motivation derived to sustain the first often pushing the boundaries of how to maintain the last. His fatalities reciting, “what a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” But the wolf’s hunt isn’t causation for pain brought about by a desire to inflict it. The wolf is ignorant to such results, when it’s time to eat, it’s time to kill. While ungulates graze on helpless grass, advertising peace through dietary restrictions, wolves surround their prey and attack like dancers running from still shadows, stripping the feathers from a Swan Song with grace and dignity.

Performed by Steve Rizzo

Big Lonely Doug by Ekaterina Karassev

I walked down the path and touched Big Lonely Doug.
He poked me in my chest and whispered in my ear,
“Do you know why I am left here?
Do you know why people keep approaching,
Taking off their shoes, hugging me and crying?
Do they know what is coming?
Or maybe they know how hard to wake up
And to see a clearcut?

Or maybe they are aware that when we are killed
We release tons of carbon dioxide?
Or how much it hurts
Witnessing your friends fall
Or to see the broken limbs of your kids?
Maybe they know how it feels when you are used to haul your family out.
Or how much I wanted to be with my siblings on that truck?”

I had no answers for him, I just kept my hand on his trunk.

“Maybe they hear the birds’ cries of despair
About missing nests and squished eggs?
Maybe, after a day of an awful noise and cracking sound,
They know the smell of horror:
Who is coming down tomorrow?!
Maybe they know how eagles scream during damage surveying?
Maybe they are aware what bears feel when they come out of still standing forest?
Maybe they hear a complete silence on a battlefield,
Where there are no movements of leaves, no sobs and no birds’ chirps?
And, to cover the wound, nature makes a heavy fog to roll in.”

I finally opened my mouth,
“Doug, you are a survivor, strong and the oldest!
Douglas Fir, you are the second largest!
You are a storyteller and an oxygen generator,
A guardian of a new growth and remaining forest!”

I heard Doug’s heavy moan.
“It appears to me you don’t know.
Behind your back is Eden Grove,
Which is getting ready to be logged.
I don’t have a beating heart,
But, I can feel the heavy step
Of those who is marking the road for blasting,
Knowing exactly what is happening after.
In each of them I see a tiny light,
That is ready to burst open and shine really bright.
Same light I have seen in Dennis Cronin,
Who tied up on me a green ribbon.
I have a hope for them and for humanity as a whole.
I know one day you all will embrace a life of pure love,
Where nature and you will live in perfect harmony!”

I shed a tear, stepped away and headed to Eden Grove.

Reading by Val Cole

The Face of a Woman
By Chris Mills
2020

The face of a woman is where emotions stream live
Revealing the beauty that within her resides.
She rises to a challenge to make life better for just one
And works ceaselessly until the deed is done.
Her expression, as she sees the fruit of her labor,
Is a tear and a smile which aggrandize together.

But the countenance of an angel glows less brightly
Than the face of the fairest wooed uprightly.

She loves from her heart where she knows and feels.
If her lover is in tune and presents his appeal
As one who has risen above prurient ways
And cherishes her heart, her emotional forays
Which splash color across the noir screen of life
And a sparkle in place of darkened eyes—

Then she will give her frame to the one she trusts.
In response to his bravura to win her, she must
Expose her innermost and allow this one’s gaze
To alight upon her magnificent face
At the moment of release when emotions are spun
Into a binding of souls and never undone.

He bows to his queen, as he realizes the truth
That she conquered the fortress he defended from youth.
Her unveiled face is the dagger which pierces his heart
And he falls bleeding at her feet considering his part
In an amorous conflict of souls, minds, and lives
Through which only the slain have a chance to survive.

Say, God is meaningless,
unless They know our pain.
Say, this is the selling point of Christ,
a god who is also a bleeder,
a laborer, a partaker of bread,
a refugee.

Say, this is my exhaustion:
searching for the godlike
in the faces of corruption,
in the places of razor wire.
Say, mothers, your milk
dries as tears. Say, children,
we are all out of lullabies.
Say, Samaritans, keep your gifts.

Say, this desert air
is the breath of God.
If you want baptism,
here is the indifferent river,
the toilet basin.

Say, this want
is an emanation of God.
Say, the Dollar Almighty
has its chosen people.
Even the haven of light
will be denied,
the all-knowing motion sensors,
the bulbs that rob the weary
of sleep, dreams, time,
those most fundamental of healers.

Say that despair is the soul-killer,
the looking away. Say, we must
be bigger than God. Say,
we must do what God cannot.
We must be here, in the flesh.
Our persistence must be so great,
even They will be humbled.