I heard a rumor

that I was doing well,

and I don't have the energy

to prune away the

entangled branches

of their erroneous

gossiping grapevine-

when I'm far too busy

trying to silence

the restless chatter

of a thousand skeletons

sharing my

closet.

            For the brittle bones

            of my transgressions

            cry out, and beg me

            to continue digging

            the peaceful graves

            I'd promised-

            but there are ones who

            want to immerse me

            in their "cleansing bath,"

            to dye and stain away

            the transparency of

            my healing
            
            flesh.

They'd rather

drown out the bones

and hastily place them

in any muddy pit for

the sake of their selfish

proprieties than listen

to their vulnerable cries

that plead with

them for help. Yet

all the while they

hold their shovels and pretend

to share my plight,

while I struggle not to

smother in silence

or deny I'm

flesh and bone,

especially when

my ugly naked

ones so humbly

speak the

truth.

So I listen to the rattling bones, rather than let the hypocrisy bury me ....

          and I cry out...

                         and I dig...                                              

                                     and I cry out....

                                                                                                          and I dig..

                                                               ..and I rot.

02/03/2006

Posted on 02/04/2006
Copyright © 2024 Robin Patterson