Talisman

Talisman

(“When the Lord made a promise to Israel, he commanded, ‘Never worship other gods, bow down to them, serve them, or sacrifice to them.’” 2 Kings 17:35)

I’ve got a stone in my pocket and a coin in my shoe;
I’ve carried the tune, I’ve scratched the surface.
My knuckles are white from hanging on tight to
ever belief I thought would fill in the holes
I dug with lyrics and melodies borrowed from time.

Sleight of hand is no trick in my world;
a handkerchief here, the ace of spades up my sleeve.
I’m holding on tight to all I believe,
though all I believe is coffee and mud.

I’ve fallen flat, I’ve paved the road;
I’ve shouted at demons, I’ve dreamed of angels.
I’m as at fault as the asphalt on August afternoons.

I’ve taken notes on everything she wrote;
jotted down my thoughts when the mighty spoke,
and still my journals are crammed with scrawls.
Was it Adam or Eve? Who made us fall?

I’ve crawled when the waterfalls called,
I’ve knelt all night on New Year’s eve,
baptized thrice (I took first prize),
and I’ve sung every verse to Amazing Grace
twice upon the primary pew.

In my hand I hold every toy truck, every guitar string I’ve plucked,
every glissando, every falsetto, and the earnest failures
like feathers and tar.

I was certain each episode. I bowed deeply and
believed the stories the ancients foretold. I
am
not
a post-modern
poet or critic,

I’ve just walked too far to be taken in again by
manufacturers’ warranties.

So I’ve emptied my pockets, taken off my shoes,
rolled up my sleeves, exposed the blues I was not
supposed to sing.

I still sing the songs and play in the sand, but my idols are
banished. Certainty vanished the moment

The clouds gave way and Love Divine was all my
Hope and Sway.