#image journal

Lord, the trees can let go of every leaf when the air tells them: Now.

Tonight, I am going to water my ball of mud and try not to touch and touch the tender blades of grass shooting up like the thorn, the thorn in my side.

I just couldn’t breathe in its shadow. It weighed what the cross weighed, that shadow Cross, more than any shadow should. No Sun could shoulder that kind of shadow, No man kneel there without a shudder. The dark beams crushed me flat as shadow, My flesh, grass, matted by the shade. No Way a mere cedar cross could shed so Much dark matter, so weighty a shadow. I just couldn’t breathe in that shadow Until I made myself a shadow- Swallowing sea and swallowed shadow

The way a sea will swallow daylight. The shadow splashed down, and the sun’s light Spilled over—only I was the light’s Sole source, both the prism and the light Beam split into the eye’s wide palette. The splash displaced a volume of light Equal to one sun, this light the light That made of the shadow cross a light Cross to bear, the light that raised my light- Weight body until then strange to flight