|
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. |