spinning stubbornly, misguided lost
like sheep blinded by the gleam of green grass,
they can’t see past the pastures
where the shepherd awaits with rod and staff,
commanding hands affirm his grasp,
but mine,
a pen that won’t lead me, won’t leak free
the words cut beneath my tongue
and I bleed vowels no sounds
just silent letters that bounce against the walls
to echo the emptiness that surrounds me here,
in the depths of a prophet swallowing whale
it’s devouring darkness consumes the light I would write about
relinquishing my written voice of praise
I await a savior to call on my name
like Lazarus,
sleeping through it all
while welting tears slip and fall
in the crevice of a bosom
where I once laid my head
not even there comes my peace
still broken away from it all
I chant fast and pray to call on thy name
Yahweh, Allah, Jah, Jehovah, Krishna
Lord, Buddha, Messiah, Creator, God
In vain?
My blood runs thick enough to sink me,
thick enough to keep me
beneath Jordan
that I can’t see pierced palms pelt towards me
a baptism gone wrong and I long for
my rebirth, my remission, my rescue, my resurrection
until then I struggle, until then I struggle, until then I struggle
with the air that’s forced to leave me
alone
forsaken
And still lost
by Felicia Montoute 2011
by Felicia Montoute 2011
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