Speak Love Softly (A Poem)

Isn't it lovely that you don’t have to be yourself? 

I walk into my parent’s room.
I’m a child.
I've had a bad dream,
And I need to wake up.

That dream is my life, and I feel
Like it’s dead.
I’m a lone corpse
And I need resurrection.

Isn't it lovely that you don’t have to be yourself? 

The room is empty save
For the music box on the shelf.
It plays softly, slowly.

The clutter is overflowing the dresser.
A gun belt, a few knives, many coins
All fall away.
What was sought, No. What was found
Is a crucifix. Christ’s arms are spread wide in the agony of embrace.
I hold him in my hand as the music plays on.

Isn't it lovely that you don’t have to be yourself?

I look into their mirror
And I see my face. But more importantly I see
Eyes that have seen too much evil
A nose upraised at too many a problem
Ears that too often failed to listen
A mouth that was opened too many times in scorn
A head that was not bowed enough.

Isn't it lovely that you don’t have to be yourself?

And the dead weight can be lifted?
And the sin forgiven?
And the corpse given life?
And the fault cut away?
Thrown away?
Eradicated?
Destroyed?
Annihilated?

Crucified..?

Isn't it lovely?

Photo by: www.ag.org