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Slow—devout—
as though your hands are holy
and I’m the altar you’ve prayed for.

I feel your hunger,
how it trembles in your breath,
how your eyes have already carved me open.
I am not afraid.

Let me be your sacrament.
Your forbidden fruit,
your crimson communion,
still warm in your mouth.

Bite gently, or don’t.
Tear what you need.
There’s no sin in this—
I give myself willingly.
I want to live inside you.

You—
you will know the real taste of divinity.

And when I am gone,
you will be full.
And I will be yours.
Entirely. Eternally. Internally.
In every aching, holy bite.
Just a moment spent in prayer,
is worth more than all the wisdom this world can offer me.
Just a whisper from Jesus,
is enough to replenish,
to find the strength to finish my journey.

-Rhia Clay
Cheyenne Apr 25
Vultures are the holiest creatures,
Tending with honor to the dead.
Bowed low to kiss the corpse,
With death covered wings and bare head.

They whisper to the frigid flesh,
Of words we could never hear, nor see.

“Your old name is not your own.
This dying earth; Not your king.
So forget the seeds that you have sown,
For I rename you “everything.”
I S A A C May 19
bind me like my name sake
i can feel myself chase not replace
i cannot believe the hues of this
i cannot believe i bruised like this
purple and black, green and blue
i am studying the ways of my wounds
i bleed for a reason, my mind isn’t treason
i am able to move
bind me like my name sake
property to the prophecy
i am the sacrifice, surrender properly
bind me like my name sake
genesis, it has been written
genesis, allow the beginning
Please,

don’t start to believe having a large circle of friends
is the closest thing to having a halo – not everyone
in your life is a holy person. But they love to dig up
something worthwhile out of you; leaving you only
as a holey person.
The Black Knight of the Franks,
He feared no thing,
Except for the hand of God.

With his sword and cross,
He rode triumphant,
Through out the Holy Land.

But once he crossed a monk of opposing faith,
But spared his life,
So his story was erased from history.
The greatest heroes are felled by silly means.
Mishika Feb 16
If your thought was a sin,
Even hell is heaven to me.
Everything is normal
so not much to sing or say.
No summer thunderstorm,
the snow was magical only for an hour.

Old men
aren’t removing women’s ******* with removable dentures.
A belly laugh now and then,
an empty belly’s holy.

With simple joy
mortals may forget to fear their deaths.
Simply put,
we do not survive. But what an adventure!

I heard an archangel cry
Don’t hurt the trees!
Also, save democracy.
Also, stop barking, believing in that higher power.

What’s Ken doing today?
Watching TED talk lectures,
planning next Spring’s garden.
It’s Death, not the Jewish king, in your rose garden.

As climates change
species escape predators
and predators chase down prey.
Choose sacrifice or blame.

I look at faces
and they look at mine, mute, animated spirits,
black wet rocks,
victims among flames.

I embrace my anonymity,
lost in my own city,
in the shade of a gazebo,
a mosquito’s acceptance of its position among a million mosquitoes.
Us
Our spirit’s were created Good and Holy because God who created them is Good and Holy.
Your soul is a collection of character attributes which you picked up along the way of living.
—Timothy Charles Carter
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