Along the Path to Righteousness
An abecedarian poem
Along the path to righteousness the wind blows heavy here.
Behold the tastes of cold exhaustion while we peer into the air.
Carvings etched in stars, their shavings in our eyes. Our hearts feel
Dead in summertime and all the days to come. It isn’t accepted
Etiquette to shake our heads, uncertain. It weighs us down,
Forlorn and lost, all because no one would hear. Our spirits spin in
Grotesque shapes while bitterness prevails.
Habitual confusion floats ever slowly to the surface. What we may have
Intended in the beginning gets cast off with our faith.
Joyful choirs still may move us, but words fall heavy and afraid. The lights,
Kaleidoscope transitions. Our skin relaxes where the glittering lights
Linger, painting us in dark rainbows. It seems the
Master is outside, beckoning release. Everyone will
Notice when we stand up and leave. No one will say a thing.
Orange clouds are yawning. The sky is fresh. The birds fly in near
Precision above the trees, below the heavens. We never had to
Question nature's movements. Our own, though, baffled humans
‘Round the earth from year to year.
Separate in language, together in uncertainty. We may not
Taste salvation in the eyes of pushy priests. They pray
Under arrogant guises, yielding nothing for their harvest. Heaven's truth
Varies from man to man to man. We all hold on but cannot say. Our
Wayward hearts seem straight. The moon comes out in black and white
Xeroxed colors, damp and warped from all the black ink.
Yesterday was fine and good. Today is
Zippered closed.
About the Creator
Emily Searle
I write
Comments (2)
I love the last two lines. Yesterday was fine and good, yet why is today zippered, should it not be open for newness,
captivating, well done.