Not Job's Friends

I will not be like Job's friends
and tell you who is god
I will only rub into your sight
the flicking nightmare streets
and lost worded women drug through
the scratch of bones under clothing
and endangered arms meant to hold
you will see empty wrapper eyes
and you will know.
But as a friend I will not leave you deafened,
but breathe into your fragile ears
and I will do it slow so they can
fill and overflow in whisper want
at the glowing moss living as skin
at the rolled open child with sky wide eyes
at blooded limbs that lift from plaster
at kindred coincidences finding themselves finally
with a hand on the right door
and then you will know,
although you have not seen or heard -
      and the pottery wounds will still scab
      and hell will still stab up into your path
      and the kite of your heart will still lie parceled to scraps -
who God is.

mar 24, 2011