Daily Archives: July 28, 2017

Would-Be Suicide Seeks Spiritual Guidance

Originally posted 3-23-2012.

Into the heat of the night to chase Lazarus.
I have something to learn from him:
how he got over his anger at his friend
for pulling him back into the struggle. 

I want to ask him how long he held the grudge
and if he led with it whenever he and Jesus talked,
if indeed they ever spoke again after that day,
which seems likely though it’s unrecorded.

How do you have that conversation
about him not just saving your life, but pulling it
all the way back from bankruptcy and liquidation
to deposit it right back where it had been

as if nothing had happened at all and anything 
that soul had seen while it was gone could be forgotten?
I know it can’t.  Know it for a fact.
And I need to know how to speak to a friend

who brought me back like that, though 
in my case I really wanted to go.  I want to know
how I’m supposed to be his friend again.
I want to know if it’s even right to try.  If anyone

should know, it’s Lazarus. How did he and Jesus
get past it, if they did at all?  
They never tell that story in the Gospels.  
They never made a sermon out of that.


Taking Stock

My body,
deceiving me
in some new way
daily.

My main diseases?
Sugar sludge blood, 
moods lurching
from death sludge 
to joy stomp, sleep
a series of strangulations;
each of these a wee bomb
waiting to rend me.

My brain,
pummeling me
as it always has.  

My approach to life,
a recalibration loop
barely held together 
at a weak seam.

My upbringing,
gentle horror show 
wrapped in
soft white bread.

My heritage?
Half worlds away from here
in two opposed directions,
the vacuum in my core strong enough
to suck at them, too weak to bring them
smashing together into a good
cold weld. 

My understanding 
of that history?
Half book learning,
half frantic triage, all 
of it guesswork when 
push comes to shove
on the edge of the void.

My homeland?
An experiment in something.
Steal a medium and grow
a culture on it. Pretend
we don’t know 
what it feeds on.

My future here?

I’m not alone in the game,
in the approach to it,
thank all the small stones
in the earth and sky
for that; thanks for
a hand to hold while I wait;
thanks for the hope that
I make it easier for them
in my own way;

but I know I will have to
run it in alone, diving down
a slip and slide built with
rust-fouled water and 
undercover stones;

I know
I’m coming in too fast,
too hard, and in no shape
for the finish,

but I’m coming in. It’s
something to do, the only thing
to do; confusion and conviction
in action;

here I come
smashing in.