Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Job 19

There will be a day when scarred feet stand
upon my dust and say the word
and every cell that burst, each broken strand
will stir as if it heard
My own eyes will see the one who lives
my own eyes, and not another’s
No transmigrant soul slipped through a sieve
of flesh -
I'll be me; my brothers, brothers.
Who can pay the price to reverse decay?
pull us back from event horizon?
could the shimmering red of the primal Way
bleed the strength of a new sun rising?
And like a sun, that burning one
as an elemental forge
tests with pain
those born again
til we pass
through New world's doors.