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I saw thousands of white petals leave their mouths, filling the air, lily petals that glimmered until they disappeared.
They can’t endure the sight of the sacred glimmer in the dark.
Without faith, there is no refuge.
Without faith, there is no refuge.
Every morning I rise and seek her scent, a scent like a song, like a wildfire you long to burn in. But I can’t smell it anymore.
This filth, nesting in the servants’ skin, in their cells, is the anger of the sea, the fury of the air, the violence of the mountains, the outrage of the trees. It’s the sadness of the world.
I’d cry out in my dreams because of the confusing images, because of the things I didn’t understand but that hurt me, and though I’d open my eyes, I’d enter a state of paralysis and struggle to breathe.
woods,
Without faith, there is no refuge.
woods
I wonder if God is the hunger behind hunger, and if behind God lurks the hunger for another God.)
That’s why Helena, the insurgent, the agitator, the tenacious woman, is in the earth, because her body was a disaster zone, a blind maelstrom.
Burning a book made me angry because I knew I was setting fire to a world.
woods
woods,
woods
Without faith, there is no refuge.
Without faith, there is no refuge.
woods,
The truth is a sphere. We never see it whole, in its entirety. It slips down our throats, through our thoughts.
The truth is changeable, it contracts, implodes, it’s powerful like a bullet. And it can be lethal.
How can you excise pain that radiates through your body, that torments your blood, that clings to your bones?
