Attendee Type
Masked Guest
Created
2025-02-22 18:51:27.894 -0600
Observation
We cross the abyss:
grief’s undertow
sweeps my footing
away. All I can do
is gaze, wondering
at the shape
of the path behind us
I will not walk
with golden rays
Dogging my footsteps.
What lies beyond
this desert of being?
I cannot know.
But, oh! My eyes,
to see new skin’s glory,
my ears, to hear the cries.
My tongue, to taste: blood, sweat & tears.
My soul, to bless,
to hope.
Carry forward my prayer
in the sacred light
as I lie still,
as the last stragglers depart.
bit.ly/3QvVrwZ
Response 1
Moon rounds, sickles:
slow, rapid, slow again.
I cannot will strength
into flesh. Never will
I enter the gates
of the sacred city.
Almighty: my song of praise, on lips of low and mighty, in kitchens and parklands.
Encode my spirit.
Response 2
As you sink—know
watergrass fronds
will grow, endometrial,
sheltering quicksilver
ruby-eyed tadpoles.
My flesh feeds
your living spirit.
Every self a world
entire. Footsteps
need roots, and the piping of frogs. Hold my hand—
Response 3
mask soul-painting, shining bright
skin to grain i bore you light
never sweat or chafe or ache
broken spirit cloaked from sight
now the tying sinews break
face bare in a chance mistake
pain and rage and shame and fright
sink beneath this murky lake
Revision
angel lifts me
above canopy—says
of roots,
shadow, soul
be a plane
carrying dad to son
be a light
in the void
bit.ly/maskrev
