water song 21107

March 15, 2007

It was death I used to sing for.
Long and lazy, like I was in no hurry at all.
A langourious song about all the upset hung on me.
Me, a coat rack for shames and do-wrongs
It was time for reprieve
I sung to relieve.

It was death I cried for many a day,
And night was the tortured time,
   when my brain would not let me by without
   making a dream on the toll-road.
I drifted long and low, ready to wake,
   afraid of the dark,
Willing only to have it so unlit when it was ink on a page.

Only ready when it was a ticket to anywhere but here.
And I sang and sang for a train to arrive
I would have died every morn
And every page, I would have torn.

No release, no exit
   and nothing to keep me occupied.
No body to hold or even push,
And not a soul to hear my tune.

I would holler deep for a rain to wash me.
And it never came to me.
No clouds gathered at my door,
Not a storm, nor gray, came.
Not from outside my house
   and not from my block.
I prayed to gods I didn’t keep
Prayed and prayed, weeped and weeped

So in vital attempt to fix my plight
   I threw on all the faucets
And plugged each drain with oily rags,
And waited to drown.
Water lapping al my neck,
   I started to see my fault
And I let that tap water cleanse me down.

Had to have my own water to be refreshed.
Had to make my own rainstorm
Every hand I had was scrubbing.
Now every heart I have is loving.


One comment

  1. Oh wow.

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