You have called
to inner cities:
the storefronts
and the tenement stairs - into the heart.
Your voice broke
the talk-show banter
and bedroom walls - into the inmost.
And it seems, You want a piece of me.
You have called
to the suburbs:
the cul-de-sacs
and night porch chats - into the heart.
Your hand pierced
the days of doldrum
and the ESPN - into the inmost.
And it seems, You want a piece of me.
I navigate abandoned ground
with a bad hip
and a new name;
dragged-out
and taken-down
but I've got a piece of You.
We have tussled
'til the morning,
the mortal man
and Holy Ghost - over the heart.
Your will fought
my agenda
and assorted dirty jokes - over the inmost.
And it seems, You've won a piece of me.
Blessings are not always free.
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2 comments:
Awesome! Blessings are indeed expensive but worth every moment of wrestling.....
When I read this one I heard, in my head, the "ding" sound that a bell on the hotel consierge's desk makes when you hit it hard. Thanks for that one. Got my attention.
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