Of Messiahs And Masochists Poem by Amberlee Carter

smoke burns my throat
inhale this cremation-
a savior sat atop his pyre,
i watched you die-

iris dull and searching
for a spark of meaning,
prophecy's incense rose
smothering us all,
a weight too heavy to bear,
a language too sour to spit-

who could love us?
who could accept our miracles
of masonic proportions?
could a world desolate by definition
find fulfillment in us?
could i, being no more saved
than the wayward sun
(who has never known the breath of life)
find rest in the darkness?
save us all from this present evil,
save yourself from this unholy act of justice.

these words, these empty threats
promise nothing is going to happen
in heaven or in hell,
except that sky and earth collide
in the distant horizon-
showing the signs and wonders
(requested by this generation)

leading us to an end,
when shortly thereafter
we will face yet another beginning,
the age of rapture into salvation-

just close your eyes
have faith
in what you are not allowed to see-
close your ears
feel the touch of prayers,
the perfume angels exhale
that fill our sails
with a wind promising
it can take us somewhere.

shall i search your scarred face
with my numb fingers?
shall i seek your presence
with a crooked compass?
and could i find you
in a world riddled by false imitators?
in the valley where
all lilies smell the same?
look for the marks upon every palm
and know the difference
in a masquerade of passions vs addictions