Viaticum

I

It was a blade 

held to my neck 

that made the impulsive tongue beg—

for mercy, we will abandon ourselves. 

The bird will abandon its nest 

if captured. 

And while doubtful, 

I take a step through 

the cage door 

and towards home. 

Yet the blade moves with me. 

What would I do 

were I the air? 

II

white light sitting frail / on the cusp of that world behind / the one beneath my feet / beyond the veil / sacred sense of clarity / melting into crackling oil / finding its way into / my short lived pleasure / ocean air becomes language / an empty white room forever / seeking someone who knows / that it’s there / dreamt lies / they surround me now / as I look away / someone must be waiting / I wanted to know them / I’m afraid / my tongue will freeze in a word / their faces could mean anything / from afar / how does one return / from hiding / how does one resort / to faith / I’ve forgotten the steps / yet the voice tells me / you’re going nowhere / you haven’t been