Let me drink hope from your lips,
taste life while it still drinks
romance through a moon straw.
Optimism hangs on a crucifix
of barbed tongues while devils sing
the what about -isms of another’s evil.
If night must rage, let its rage escape
along my skin…Let me breathe resurrection
before I succumb to ashes.
That opening is just exquisite, Susie--a living image if ever there was one. Optimism, and too much more seems to indeed be in the process of being crucified, and we stand below helpless...we must all hope to find that escape and resolution you offer in your last lines. Thanks so much for adding this to the mix.
ReplyDeleteI’ll start by saying ‘Amen’ to this personal exhortation. Drinking hope from God’s lips is the only way to go. I’m in your corner 🙏🏾
ReplyDeleteAfter that first stanza, I doubt anyone could deny her anything. So, drink up!
ReplyDeletesmoky eyed pen, this is ~
ReplyDelete