Wrongful Life

From the depths of the earth
From the heavens above
I imagine the trial of my murderer.
The silence of the courtroom disturbed
Only by the anxious fidgeting of a jury
Made up of my peers or hers?

The honorable judge holds gavel in hand
Even breath concealing weighted heart
As my story becomes testimony.
My name: Exhibit A.
My birthday finds me dead
By the hands of one I trusted
One I loved.

Collective gasps steal air from the room
As my murderer is called to the stand,
Taking an oath that requires honor
On a book that emits holiness
One she does not have
The other she does not deserve.
Her validated smirk still sickens me
As she begins to explain away my life
With the same words she used
While plotting my demise.

I didn't want her around.
She wasn't what I expected.
It wasn't like she had any real worth.
She was bad for me.
I'm a better person with her gone.
I brought her into this life and I can take her out.
After all, it was my choice.

The last word slices through my soul.

I imagine the jury shifting uncomfortably
The judge tightening his grip on the gavel
My father weeping in the corner
Of a room full of choices
Each one offering justice or justification.

From the depths of the earth
From the heavens above
I imagine a trial I long for,
A trial that will never come.

Because she stole my voice
Before I could develop it
And no one would speak for me.

Because she shut my eyes
Before I could learn to open them
And no one would see for me.

Because she took my choice
Before I could stand to make it
And no one would choose for me.

For my life.

No one waited to ask me for my choice.
Inconvenience turns murder to termination
Easier to say perhaps
But do not be mistaken
A beating heart was stopped that day.

Just be glad it wasn't yours.

She has my whole world in her hand.

Gentle kisses land
On tiny fingers as they
Reach out for my heart.

The Upper Room

I rise from the pew and begin
One step, and another
Toward tradition and ritual.
I pause before the alter to bow
Eyes shut in obedience
A moment of silence, of darkness...

I open them to a dimly lit room
The flicker of well-oiled wicks
Cast dancing shadows across
Clay made rock made wall.
Before me a congregation of
Ordinary men and women
An intimate setting of hushed voices
No I recognize by image
Except one.

With a lifting of His hands
We make silence and find seating
On worn wooden benches
Work of His father perhaps?
His eyes speak love,
Though His lips say nothing
I wonder if He knows
The worth of His words.

He bows before me with
Dampened rag in hand.

Will you give Me your feet?

He sits beside me
Holds His arms out in prayer

Will you give Me your hands?

He breaks the bread
Offers hardened morsel

Will you give Me your lips?

He pours the wine
Hallowed cup now made full

Will you give Me your body?

I watch as my company of
Ordinary men and women
Accept His offerings without hesitation
I wonder if they know
The worth of their reception.

Overwhelmed by humility
Eyes shut in my tears
A moment of silence, of darkness...

I open them to an alter
My priest stands before me
His eyes speak love,
Though his lips say nothing
As he offers a hardened morsel.

Will you give Me your body?

I accept his offering without hesitation
But with a humble and knowing

Amen.

Depression Express

The days run long

Alongside a locomotive

Steam engine charging forth

Against an incindiery sunset

Of regrets and contrition.

Tear drops rain showers of

Hopelessness abounding

On the forlorn passengers

Who know not where they are going

Seeking no destination.

Beaten Unnoticed Laughable Less-than You.

Whispers echo in my soul
Every syllable a death-sentence to my confidence
As you play the game of Darwin
I must have been born to lose
Survival of the fittest?
Apparently I care too much.

Laughter down the hall of my self-esteem
I never understood the joke
Turns out you thought I was the joke
What did I do to earn a spot
In your black comedy show?

Friendship is a pawn you use to make moves
Toward me, to conquer me, knock me down.
Sarcasm slits paper-thin slices through my senses
Did you mean it? Am I worthless?
I can't tell the difference anymore.

Sticks and stones...

Who gets to decide what should hurt enough to kill?
Who gets to own me?
Who gets to leave me?

Alone.
Tears.
Gone.

I can't wait for the day
When I won't remember who you are.