Saints

 

Saints. 

Praise, he said, the one above,

and I did praise the one below,

and share what you have with all, he asked,

and I shared none at all.

And he flew to the stars, so smiling,

and I laid back in amaranths,

and rosy was my tinged skin, and rosy were his lips.

Spouting a holy vitriol,

as I heathen lay,

picking at my sins,

he melted my skin away. 

And when I praised the muse, he slapped my cheek and said,

I am the muse,

and when I praised the universe, he slapped my lips and said,

I am the universe,

and when I praised myself, he slapped my eyes and said,

I am yourself.

And I fled from body, did flood through him,

and rivers split and rivers flow,

though separate they share the name,

and dripping from his lips, his eyes,

we, so unlike, were the same.

I found him tied to a pole, and speared so through his chest,

and I held my hand upon his head,

and hymns through my lips sung,

for when alive it was to his heathen wits,

I did confess,

from his naked touch,

I took communion,

and from his pagan blood,

there poured a wine so sweet.

It singed the weeds around his feet,

and I untied him from his rest,

and sung through his battered ears,

a lullaby of psalms.

And burning through his wounds,

I found myself in love,

but in my duty dug a hole, unholy ground,

and buried him profanely by

the hazel and the yew.

The martyr was to a tree

pinned with a dagger,

pierced through his neck.

He could not speak no holy words;

he could not sing a hymn.

And when I tried to pull him down, he grabbed my hand and shook.

No.  He gushed.  Never.  He sighed.

Leave me. He poured.  Away.  He died,

and his feet hung limp,

black soled,

above the muddy ground. 

Time had passed,

and hazelnuts grew ever great

with victuals from skin

and yewberries so luscious plump

when drunk they from his blood.

The wind weighed thick, the vulture picked,

the crows cawed through the night,

the watermills poured round and round,

washing the whole wide world. 

A wisp came to his lips

and quickly turned them blue,

the sky broke out a flood,

the river doubled up,

the waters crashed against the tree.

Heavily, he fell,

face to the ground, unclothed,

and branches fell beside him, crisscrossed,

two sticks a common shape.