I’ll never trust your eyes
Always flashing early, often
Happy speaking lies against a good, good heart
I trust the strangers
Never needing to have seen
Somehow know the truth of me
I trust the front-yard flowers, too
Sometimes August-blooming poppies
Just for me, in June instead
All these fine, blind men
Contented by my Echo
Narcissism numbs
Bible in a pile
Way back there, in the backseat
By balloons -prey tell?
Do we know what we commit when we pray?
I’m uncertain
Questions, I know I need
After asking for comfort from the One who commands the stars and could right-well hand them to me
Am I earnest enough?
Am I faith-filled?
Is this ignorance or freedom?
What says my soul?
I lay down prostrate
Sand in my teeth and awe-drowned
Cleansed by today’s truth
Information feigned
Captivated, I ask, “Why?”
Then set out to know
God and the poet
What do they own in common
Only the heavens!
Not obtuse
Not acute
Not Hell-bent for the stars
I must go
I must be
I must give what is ours
If you look
If you ask
If you promise what’s true
You will find
You will learn
You will become who’s you
Are they red-handed?
Or, my glasses too rosy?
The questions I need….
