Carpentry

I’m told you felt the clothes I wear.
I’m not sure whether you inhabited them differently.
Was it without a stain on the collar?
Is that the way it had to be?

I’ve read your eyes became as wells.
Loss grips the strongest of hearts,
Changes the heartbeat.
Blood and water wrenched apart.

I know of your fury towards the takers,
The highborn, the one percent,
The prophets of profits.
A zealot in name and dissent.

I don’t believe the message was red.
Good news is more for living than dead.
Points are missed when focused on ends.
It’s the moral arc and the way it bends.

The here and now, the strings and waves;
Eras of mystery buried by days.
The hum of reverence, the turning of dials.
Eucharist of bodies honors the way.

Iron on wood and tearing through muscle.
Carpentry at start and at finish.
A war on the peace, a peace in the war.
“He must increase and I must diminish.”

I know of your words, I’ve marked them in yellow.
Heard the ravings, “Life’s less without death.”
The crux missed, the Kingdom at hand.
The infinite Other in the smallest of breaths.