I am a worry

that I do not worry

enough

or maybe

too much.

I am filled with fear…

that I live too little,

too much;

not at all?

how do you be

what you need to be

in a box out of reach

and buried in my own

stony chest?

these are thoughts

in mere fleeting moments

that run on repeat

and they would spark some movement

if not for the entropy

of my heart.

live in your place

or die trying

live or uproot yourself

and rejoice in the withering

that makes you kindling

for the raging fires to come

there is no betrayal

in being whomever the fuck

you wanna be

there is no death

and pain is a gift to the numb

that pushes the novacaine out

and writes you with anticipation

live in your place or die

I don’t care and you shouldn’t care

that I don’t care

don’t we wish
we could go back
and difuse the explosives
we let stand in the path
of the ones we walked with?

don’t we?

to stop the shrapnel
that flies to the future
that flies to the past
and shatters the ever-present?

but its done,
and the best we can do
is ascend the crater,
to leave its shadows
and move toward the rising sun.

Naomi lost –
she lost lives,
she lost husband,
she lost sons

Naomi lost –
so Naomi left
on rumour that God had been good
to her people,
to this place.
a land of promise,
a land of plenty,
bringing clinging Ruth in tow

Ruth the foreigner,
Ruth the daughter-in-law,
Ruth who worked from dusk to dawn,
caring for natural-born Naomi

Ruth brought blessing,
and she brought favour,
and she brought David,
and she brought Solomon,
and she brought Jesus to Jerusalem

look what the foreigner brings
to the promised land that welcomes her

this black sky
speaks of eternal absence
between the too bright points
of phosphorus possibilities –
blinding sirens beckoning
toward thermonuclear shores;

and every star seems
a goal worth risking,
but the closer you get
the farther they become
until you are lost
in the space between dreams.