Pristine ocean waves
call you to places you’ve never
dared to go, places inside
your mind where the light
burns bright and exposes
all your sullen and dingy
thoughts on god and why
he doesn’t show up in your life
more often, compels you to examine
under the force of the pounding waves
your acts of defiance
in the name of self-preservation
but which self is still unclear,
despite the microscope and
operating table where you can
carefully dissect and then put
the pieces back together
stitch by stitch, like a Frankenstein
doll with a porcelain heart,
stuck together with tacky glue
that is only guaranteed for a few years
and after that who knows what happens
to those shattered pieces?
Do they break apart and float,
getting lodged in the crevices?
Or do they simply disintegrate
as if they never existed?
You think the glue will hold
because you always were naïve
and the patched up parts
are your religion, the glue-filled
cracks where you find your god
SpiritLed 2014