Spirit
creation of life brought into focus with depth of heart
star-struck apparati flowing through the subway cart
militias gathering to strike the fallen anklets’ blood
miles of terror creeping against a tide of oil’s crude
resistant forces echoing the past forgotten dreams of men
prying into the dead constraints by the superficial gem
saturday comes to soon on a midsummer blue day
my wishes never granted to you silently as you pray
yellow groans of fingers taunting pastor hypocrisy
sacramental oaths bleed in judgment of jealousy
spirits moaning to come to this place as I fear
hatred of life he tethers together a grinding gear
pain never spoken but felt in a roar too loud to hear
listening in silence the hairs stand up but cheer
have you ever wondered to communicate with her
bristles of shattered glass destroys as to occur
write with your heart not your hands
speak with your mind not your glands
act with your soul not your meat
live with your spirit not your feet
-Jason L. Scarabin for Haigush