Patti Rising (poem)

(slowly, softly)
Bombed out church
Easter Sunday
No one else is here
I hear.... a poet sing
Her stone is rolling
Her womb is open
I am stained like glass
The panes are broken
The pains are healed
She comes like a wind
I am blinded by Light
There's a bird in a window
I am taken away
Sky is terribly blue
Clouds are passing
At very high speed
Over the years
l’ve come to know you
Your naked imperfection
Cracking the whip
Snapping the asses
Moneychangers, pretenders
Funny old fat men
Laughing at the hair on your legs
Behind your guitar
Your gray hair is beautiful
Your naked body is fading
I look away.... I almost walk away
But I hear you.... and only you
The pews are empty
Stone walls are shaking
High on resurrection
You.... are an insurrection
There's a sad look on my face
I feel melancholy
Shake me
Turn me around
Stare into my eyes
Tender love song
Of post modern punk poets
The dirt is coming loose from me
Your sweat poured like rain
Like a crucifixion
When I hold back a tear
It's more than happiness
I know this beauty that you are
I know it well
That’s why
I love you so deeply
Like you are
A little girl
So old and gray
Church bells ringing
On Easter Sunday


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© Vincent B. Rain