Oarsman

I woke up sweating on the moaning mount of olives

My black dove penance weighing down my feather feet

Woven into my skin, the covenants I'd broken

My granite heart will not forget what it once was.

A coffer full of your love

I couldn't bear it.

I don't believe I ever had a choice

When the sun came up and my eyes were struck

I don't believe I could've changed my mind

In the dead end heat of that withered beach

With my grave stone teeth and your seven shades of grief

We were unleavened earth before the first unsettled word fell

They drew the devil's iris in between your brows

Accursed breath that left our bodies when the day broke

Who built that weary wooden cabinet for your faith?

All these doors I see

mean nothing to me.

I don't believe I ever had a choice

When we lost our sight to the teething night

I don't believe I could've changed my mind

When the seeds were sown and then left alone

How could I have known I was never on my own?

Oh God, I feel like every saintly fire was my fault.

That I got crossed off of the wall

and my fingers all bloodied and torn

and it's just a lie,

a poor excuse for all the fumes

that I spit out back when I was young,

and god damn the truth,

I was unused,

an empty glass,

an oarsman and no one knew my name.

I am not welcome in this house I built.