Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Dear God

(Pre-Script: This poem is best read as the song, "Breathe," #55 on the playlist, plays in the background, so go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

If you can redeem the preciousness of a thing,
even when the surface is scarred from
the fights to wrestle back what was let go,
even when the surface becomes blistered,
calloused, gray, or pockmarked,
if you can still redeem the most precious pieces,
then do not let them lose their lustre;
hide them safely,
while I fight these beasts I see today as beasts
but at night, I want to snuggle them, soft as teddy bears,
soft as pillows that numb this anxious mind into
the weightlessness of impossible dreams
that have no place in waking day life
or open eyed living,
but the fangs they hide rip invisible things to shreds
even as their lullibies sound like redemption,
like safety,
like freedom,
even as I dream away
each part of who I am.


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