(Photo: Simon Wijers)
There isn’t a place I’ve been that I’ve not run from
When midnight struck the clock on the wall
And late became the hour
And like the damned in fairy-tale legends
Morning set my feet to flee before the sun crest over the horizon upon the
very next day
When ashes all settled from the bridges I’ve burnt
Whose broken bodies lay limp over yawning
Deep canyons
With my fingers smelling once again of gasoline and tear drops
I bore the Weight of myriad transgressions on ever bent neck and sloping shoulders
My feet once tender had turned to stone
My face once fat had become lean
Sweet smiles lines became deep set and turned to frown lines
At the corners of my mouth
With ragged and raging and fearful soul
I turned my back on heaven and the son and my home
I was the prodigal son unwilling to beg forgiveness
For made up sins wrapped neatly in heavenly torment
I was Jonah who’d conquered that whale with simple reason
I was Paul and Silas bound beaten and bloody
Who instead of praying, fucked my way out of that jail
And like the damned and unrepentant third man on the cross
I thought forever my poor soul would roam
Burning bridges and abandoning beds before sun up
Unable to call any place, any house, my home
But twisted fate is always twisted and it twisted me once more
As it Bound me over naked and afraid
Unrepentant vagabond born again hedonist
Begging for an early grave
But then with tenderness you spoke in my ear
And upon your feet I spilled my hearts discontent
I let you know among which shadows I danced within
And repeated back to you all I learned about religion
With Grace’s supernatural understanding
You took the can of gasoline from my left hand
The Zippo lighter right out of my left
You bathed the dust from off my feet with sweet oils
And for the first time, made love to me that night
You blue eyed angel with dark hair and tender faith
You’ve restored and take care of my soul
And when you love me you love all of me
All of who and where and what I’ve been
And now that the clock is winding steadily to midnight
I lay my head upon your chest, little Messiah, and wonder at the mysteries of God.