Run for the Bell Tower

// self-portrait of Joshua Brown // photographed with a Sony A6000
// featuring the mukhabarat

  a poem by Joshua Brown

Seeping through the winding paths of sediment-transporting water.


Gifted with a kiss of tender quiet time with one whose kindnesses scatter.


Dark shadows build into the gargoyled masonry as sun rays pattern.


Betrayed into life, held captive by love, broken by hugs, amused by porn.


This is normal. Flames all around. Desperate for water but surviving on scorn.


Smoke billowing, I close my eyes and sing "Amazing Grace" until the morn.


There is no morn. I open my eyes in Hell. Abraham himself turns away from.


No salvation. No king. No father. Instead of faith in Christ, I hear distant war drum.


Blood from the ground seeps up, time turned backwards, musk perfume.


The simulation plays backwards as I unkill Jesus. God becomes vengeful again.


Corpses once dead walk and dance, they don't see the flames I find my kiln.


No taste or smell here, only gasping for breath under the heavy weight of sin.


Where was that kiss in light? Was it Judas or was Judas a true kiss and mine imbibed?


I will not stay here. I must escape this prison of filth and anger. The walls I'll climb.


Let go. Let go. Run. Run. Escape not by the door but escape now where the bells chime.


A warning to the wise. A clue to the prudent. Go now to the bell tower, go.


Angry hatred fills my mind at those who told me, no. Will it suffice to escape or grow?


Overhead a scream, a menacing crash, a groan. The bell tower falls, sparks show.


No escape. No running. No letting go. No love. I cry. Tears flow. Decisions made.


Instead of pain, I sit on the ground, puss pouring loosely.




#poem #poetry #christian #psychology #fear #anger #despair #determinism