Saturday, July 4, 2015

Slicing through

Slicing through                                                                                        

There’s a sword vertical in the body,
stiff and true, the hilt near the boot,

tip below the throat, the chest a keen,
curved blade slicing through, slicing through;

a whetted wisdom near the heart, below the head,
too sleek to be held back, when one can bear

the wielding which does not allow for respite.
A keen sword soon to get buried

somewhere in the plowed brown earth,
the soft tissue, the unbroken vast sea

of whatever this is where we are
slicing through to whatever is beyond.

O child of God, bring forth the blade
by calling His name and never holding back.

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