The Call

And there I stood.
Your words blew threw me like the wind through the broadside of an old barn.
You reached into my chest, pulled out my heart, dropped it on the ground and stepped on it on your way out our door.
And I
Was poured out
Like water on to sand.

He was your new thing, had a Bavarian machine and a few diamond rings.
You told me how much bigger and better he was than me and how he
fulfilled you.
Our happy home was boring and you were too young to be tied down to one tired old dude.
So you were off to see the wizard. Get your kicks on Route 66.

Your exit opened the door to hell.
Flames of pain licked and taunted me with the barbs of your laughter and your words.
My fleshed burned from inside out as a result of the nuclear wasteland you left inside of me.
Fallout.
Radioactive.
Vaporizing tears as they crept out of ducts,
Denying me the smallest, most basic release.

Sleep no longer claimed it knew me, abandoning me as if I had betrayed its deepest secret.
Appetite joined the exodus, depositing lost pounds in the toilet love had become.
Agony moved in and made itself comfortable, bringing friends and relatives of heartache, despair,
Sorrows and no-cares.
And something within me, deep within me, bent, broke and ever so slowly, slowly,
Died.

So there I existed rather than lived, decomposing into putrefaction,
Shunned by the world.
Didn't notice.
Didn't care.
George Romero my father,
The walking dead.

But in the ash and ruin of Mt. St. Helen
A blade of grass eventually, defiantly, struggles to the surface
and breathes.
The once thought lost main frame
Reboots.
And I,
Regenerate
Because there is something that heals all wounds.
And it is on my side.

The rain falls,
Washing me,
Cleansing me,
Refreshing me,
Renewing me,
And I,
INHALE!

As life slowly grows in me.

It's not my time to die
I realize
And start to live the life given to me,
Surviving the holocaust given to me,
Erasing the red ink deficit of pain,
Investing and saving and growing in me to be free,
Getting back to way past zero.

Having made it through, the burning Saharan sands,
Having had death lick me,
To unbelievably find something tastier elsewhere.
Miracled out of emotional paraplegia,
I rise.
I walk
To the insistent phone
Hear your choked voice
From the other side of midnight
Wanting to come home

He left you,
For a new thing
With a Bavarian machine
And a few diamond rings...



Hosea 2

©SojournerG 2008 All rights reserved