Closest Place ( A Poem)

She said

The closest place to God

Was on the fault line

Between san antonio and san andreas.

Cars swerve into hem of the highway

Caught only by the Astroid belt

Hanging onto the cusp of a pair

Of jeans that was far too loud

For the dirt freckled wheels.

 

She said the closes place to God

Was not in the church,

Nor the catherdral

Not the temple

Nor ancient books.

 

But rather the spilling of the wind

Rustling through the popular tree.

 

She said the closest place to God

Was not in the sanctuary

Nor the pulpet

But rather at 3 am

Knee bent under the weight

Of a heavy sky breathing down your neck

Like heavy scaled dragons.

 

She said the closest place to God

Was in the empty bank books

And pockets lined with bills

In the circular cog of the piano

Turning itself over

Into an act of worship.

 

The scar on a man’s face

Freshly plastered where all of his

memories should have been

 

The closest place to God

Was in between tears

Falling to the sound

Of a human heart coming apart

Or a mother who clutched her child

For one last breathe.

 

The closest place to God

Was in between the burden of

A wood pile

Burning it’s last bit of hit

For the family

With only pennies to bite on.

 

The rough shackled oil lamp

Casting it’s final light

On the hopes and dreams

Of tomorrow

The way the river laps the

Seabed of rocks

Every thursday.

 

The hand of a groom interlaced

Within the fingers of his new bride.

The closest place to God

Was in the dessert

Because it was only there

Against the backdrop of the sand

That the flower became it’s most beautiful.

 

~Melodic Rose~

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