dirt & human

xiv. body

I wrapped my body around His breath and
choked His words until they were ghosts.
Change and loss is for space to slip
and fall into the cracks of graves.
Fresh air and being a saint is a boring
cliche, so we die and die through and
around until we stand over and above,
to below with the weight of Heaven, heavy
with people and religion pushing us
to the ground touching the world
until we become dirty. Our skin stained
with quotes and people. Saved and
re-saved by bad decisions or by grace.

Until they were voices to bodies,
shadows, then blurred memories of
conversations and sins. I don't ever like the
artificial wait, humans tease purpose and
meaning with foreplay of undressing and
playing with faith, but we're really statements
or periods. Seeing the truth but never holding
the whole truth so we spoil the ending with God through reaching and pulling to trap peace.
Saved by the devil and raised by God for mixed feelings of this and that, ignoring the reasons
for more reasons.

Until they were Holy water, or spit, and hypocrites.
I don't walk in line to Heaven for the dead.
I don't rinse and dry my body with the grief it stood in for the sake of my soul to know the meaning
of belief. I've put my knees on faith, wiped
my eyes with it until it stung from dead flowers
and useless sorrys. I pour and put my entire body into my breaths, into creation. I don't count
my mistakes and rush my sins to get to the other side because I'm already here.

Until they wrap themselves with the closeness of God because I can't worship right. My backward steps or being rebuilt with wrong isn't dressing up for church and praying for forgiveness. It's being close to Heaven, closer to the ground because my whole life is where I can't reach it. Maybe I
don't want to be saved with a deeper purpose.
I've measured depth by touching the world
until I got dirty. I held the weight of Heaven
like it was a child and I let it go but I stayed.

Or maybe I just want to be haunted.