Twister to Jordon

Desire has burnt itself into states of ash, white and hollow. These simple dreams once laid bare under a vulnerable sun have turned delirious. Chime saccharine beauty. There are bells ringing out in a cacophonous peeling. Listen though deaf, a heart cannot discern if they call out in worship or warning. Fires have been lit with tinder dry willow and birch. Burning acrid stacks to guide home weary weakened warriors.

Once they claimed Crusades were directed by Christ.

They lined us up to eat his flesh, one by one. Storms rolling over horizons. Old women lowered themselves lowly to earth waiting for dust to lift them skyward. Off in the ferocity of twisters coming to claim only the holy. There are no chambers deep enough to contain my sins and bone marrow seeps its substance slowly around the skeletal frame.

Doves beckoned, broke formation to swoop down amongst sinners. There are no saints sleeping here, each sacrificed in a letting of blood.

Blankness

Or blackly moves shadows about the page. Here weep I scriptures meaning. Leviticus has demands I stone myself to rid an essence of evil. No other hand will raise rocks despite laying my head at their feet. Prayers of forgiveness still themselves upon bloodied lips. Nothing shall sing me sweetly back to God, shout me to salvation. I have never travelled to Jordon. Going nowhere to meet the naked etching of myself. Hollow. Unclear.

I am only a stranger to strangers with no map to guide me home or back to Jordon.
My body made to lay under
and then blindly to roam.

Copyright: Samantha Ledger 2012