Thurible

I carry you with me, and it has me in pieces
my heart swinging like the reverend’s thurible
encased in metal, it censors my emotions
as they seep out pores in my side, drifting in the air
to those who do not have ears to hear
as the Father takes me down the aisle of my peers

They have not eyes to see me smoldering
the charcoal at the pit of my desires
as I throw caution to the wind 
and offer this holy sacrifice to God in fear:
“Lord I believe, help me in my unbelief,
give me a tongue and let my heart speak.”

Oh contradiction,

you have become the parish bell I ring;

but they hear not the bell I toll, they have only mouths to sing

can they not smell the incense burning, or even feel

my pain, for it's on the straight and narrow

I swing, like a ball and chain

(2/22/09, 5/12/09)