In a paradigm of eyes

Lies paths charted yesterday

By earnest men in boats of words

Restless hearts for those in yokes

To see them broke, and baring pure light,

Aglow from inside. Fields none of us can tread:

Foxglove and feverfew

Febrile dreams, vivid in beds

Of eyebright, for the Lord’s delight

We are bound to these crosses

Hung on them

Drawn and quartered by words opposed

Hoping for an outlook of yeild,

Something unseen

A gleam, buried

Beneath the roots and skeletons of weeds

Thorn upon thorn piled in this rubbled mess

Of the ones who have been pulled up before

We live with our eyes, searching for that horizon

In the sharp smoke of guttering flames

Arching back upon ourselves,

Needing your streams to clear our heads

Your breeze of change, the steadiest gale in this

Storming uncertainty.

We’re yelling for you to wake,

Our rudder. Our oars.