It’s hard to live

somewhere in between the

gutter and the stars

to sing rhapsodic songs

in the tangled wreckage

of yesterday’s swirling storms

 

Harder still to believe

silence isn’t a threat

but a holy invocation

into an unspoken litany

an invitation that melts

memory of the mire

and night’s indigo shine

into a single breath

 

If there’s a distance

between sinner and saint

it’s only a grace

a liminal interval between

that knows no distance

no corner of darkness

in the howling winds

of space and time

untouched by light or

incapable of being warmed

 

© Jedidiah Paschall – February 2, 2019