Not like the loving arms of god, with pseudo-forgiving outstretched arms pinned to the cross. Here, on the blood stained tiles, in a forgotten place, lies a forgotten girl. Whose blood is the imprisoned words she couldn’t bear to speak. Her eyes longed only to welcome the light she was promised, but they shut too soon to command justice.

Of all the lies, and she knew many, one above the rest: hope, and equality.

The legends must go elsewhere, her book is bound shut.

Take your tired and medicate him ‘til he’s productive in the morning.

They will take your poor, give them suits and briefcases, so they can forget you.

They will take your hurdled masses just to pass the blame to someone new.

They will take the wretched souls you cast out so they will become beautiful.

They will take your homeless and expect them to dig their graves with smiles in silence.

They will take your beaten down and subject them to more adversity than fathomable.

They will lure you onto a path of light. In a boat on still waters, you will stare out and see a beautiful world. You will thank those you owe thanks to, and sail towards this new world.

As you dip and rise gently on the waters, you will hear the subdued moans of the rushing currents below. The more aware you become of them, the less likely you will escape.

They will draw you nearer, until you are on the edge of the source, peering down into the depths of reality, into the darkness of the truth.

The splendor of a waterfall will be realized as you wish to be put out of your misery as your boat descends at lightning speed into ceaseless darkness.

And your wish will be granted when the pressure of the rushing blue green sustainer of life breaks your fragile mortal neck.

And the goddess who was supposed to welcome you watches on, happy she is god, and you are man.


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