|
|
| I am torn in two |
| but I will conquer myself. |
| I will dig up the pride. |
| I will take scissors |
| and cut out the beggar. |
| I will take a crowbar |
| and pry out the broken |
| pieces of God in me. |
| Just like a jigsaw puzzle, |
| I will put Him together again |
| with the patience of a chess player. |
| |
| How many pieces? |
| |
| It feels like thousands, |
| God dressed up like a whore |
| in a slime of green algae. |
| God dressed up like an old man |
| staggering out of His shoes. |
| God dressed up like a child, |
| all naked, |
| even without skin, |
| soft as an avocado when you peel it. |
| And others, others, others. |
| |
| But I will conquer them all |
| and build a whole nation of God |
| in me - but united, |
| build a new soul, |
| dress it with skin |
| and then put on my shirt |
| and sing an anthem, |
| a song of myself. |
