homily

 

something settled

behind these awkward

brown eye

I am awake

in my 

dearest sleep

I call all my 

heroes and heroines 

they tell me 

stories of

chains and grieves

but

I feel the dance 

I hear the song;

so

I grab the moon

and 

let the sun go

to get a cup of water

and 

pour 

on 

their

bruising 

souls