does not missstep me.
2006-08-19 11:30 a.m.
tributary mouth, the rivers in my bodymispronounce, curve softly
want fully, are unwilling to carry -
a weight, to be lifted, to be misplaced, my redemption
does not sit still, does not wait, cries to me
from the water, climbs me up into the branches i have longed for. my crucifixion does not come
through other hands, comes from my own, and i am dead again, resurfaced through the order of the blood, remembered -
there is greatness in the being, in all of its complicated moving, and it steers me closer than i should be, feeds me contentment in little sips, revives me again, rekindles my once hopefulness. does not deceive, does not deceive, does not misstep me.