The old priest never told me—
try to feel this
not as words,
but rocks—
not the bare facts
but the hard ones,
and not the ones
out there anchoring
the land, either
but like that one pithy hard
pit in the dark
fortress of your stomach:
Ambivalence—exists.
Incertitude, perplexity,
insignificance—runneth over.
Bewilderment
covers the earth.
And your resolve
your young
tender confidence
composure, dedication—these things
are like His skin:
when pummeled with stones, each
bruises easily.
Forget about salvation,
what you seek
is protection. What you need
is a barrier.
Body and soul?
No—the true analogy
fits together
much more like: clothing
and body.
