mother of wild | dangerous woman
it is so easy to climb back
into bed with my demons
sheets cold but worn
decades of “sleep well”
decades of “good morning”
decades of looking into the same tired faces
with bleary eyes and foggy minds
i am tired
so very tired
i would leave
i should leave
but look at how much i have to pack 
what an honor it is
to be
half barbaric
half divine
animals made in the image, the heart, the strength of God
what a burden
what a reckoning
what a legacy
chosen to be partly of the heavens, partly of the wood
greasy, gritty, holy
licking our bloody chops clean before communion
washing the muck from our white robes; god-beast
can you be wholly anything when you are a half-breed?
i think we have it wrong
we do not have to tame anything
water crushes in waves and cushions your brain
fire comforts and ravages entire cities
divinity is just a different kind of wild
nothing is heavier than air
that fills an empty crib
hollow and crushing
cradled grief
hush little nothing
don’t say
a word
Is there anything more irreverent
and holy
than peals of laughter and the
click
clack
of tiny dress shoes running in the hall?
Few are closer to heaven than disruptive children
bright church bells clanging in the sunshine.
how can broken people heal a shattered world?
maybe we can’t.
maybe we’re not
supposed to.
what if we just wait for the flood?
it cannot be much longer until God regrets, undoes
what we’ve said They’ve done
our veins pulse with shame, for shame
we are the drought
f o r s h a m e.
for how long have I
confused considerate with
convenient for you
I must stop making myself
more palatable for those who would not
consume me either way
lukewarm is safe but wholehearted is
the only way I can breathe; if it boils me alive then so be it
