Deep in my belly
God lives
Through the yoni gate
She is
Luxurious
In Holy Darkness
Inside of my ribs
A soul is
Being forged
By this Life
Living through me.
Inside of my head
A story plays:
A rough—
But very rough
shark skin,
Steel wool,
Hitting the pavement
From a downhill
Riding bike
Rough—approximation
Of reality.
Inside of my head is
An abrasive narrative
Will you forgive me if
I can’t think of many
Things worth saying
Out loud
To You
About me
Or anyone
Or anything else
When God lives
In my unspoken depths
And a soul is taking
Shape inside my chest
And the story playing
Inside my head
Is shit?
Will you forgive me if
I’ve yet to decipher
How other people
Walk around like this
Looking for someone
To talk to
About the weather?
The government?
Or even about the highest
and most holy bliss.
I don’t know what to say
Except that
God dwells in my inner silence
And my heart is broken
Open from the pressure
In the forge
And I’m tired of the story
I’ve been telling
And of my own voice
And of yours.
I’m tired of our stories.
Did you hear the last thing I will say?
God dwells in my pelvis, silent
And my soul is being forged.