27 Years
older and still no closer to heaven. But please, leave me–
Leave me here where my prayers are answered in the rhyme of a Dickinson or the riff of a Sultana–
Leave me here on the breast of the earth where angels kiss sinners like me over tea and late night memories on Sunday mornings–
Leave me here where the blessing of caressing hands is enough to bend a celibate to his knees over the pulpit of her body as they mouth Hallelujah–
Leave me here alone in the bedroom of midnight so I may wake drenched in the sweat of stars and surrendered dreams–
Leave me here where salvation can be found on a coastline under hails of light bursting through the winged cathedral of a redwood canopy–
Leave me here where the mind is wider than the sky and contains so much more than I–
Leave me here and heaven forbid the day I arrive at the holy promenade without my return ticket–
Leave me here to dwell in possibility–
–in the only promise guaranteed.