great commission…

The sin of greatest omission - to live

neither in nor of but merely on, to

refuse the world’s magic, eyes sewn

shut with fishing line, ears packed

tight with doctrine and twigs and

mud, a scarecrow’s existence always

haunted by the memory of Noah’s

raven that never returned.

But some speak of a redemption,

a thorn-sprigged hope if you dare:

commit, rip-stitch your eyes,

unpack your ears, lash yourself

to the charmed mast, whisper the

two-word incantation of saints -’thank you.’

To get started memorize her body’s contours,

or learn to chew tobacco like your Pepaw,

or collect amber bottles to arrange on a

shelf just so beside the prints a friend

loaned but you never returned.

-John Blase