I sewed the wind into comfort for you.
I whitened black night with burning
glass and blackened white lies with
sooted ash. I sat, faceless,
shawl-covered on concrete floors,
shame built on refinery lines and
stolen silence from the past. I let
you cower. I watched as levers churned
out bleak horizons, as pulleys separated
welders’ hands from wrists, as spinning
mules spooled sin in shadow factories
against grain, mill, seed — artifacts
lost when day yielded to night but
night never relinquished to day.

Faint shrieks hammered like machines.
Gears cranked and coiled. Copper dust
flecked like snakeskin — anthills
of metal ash at the feet of sallow
dreams. I saw color, light, motion.
Glimpses of breath, of life, of
obtuse pallor, of ages when reverence
arose and set with the sun. I followed
assemblies rifted by railways, hollowed
from rivets, harrowed with the plight
of healing saints. I stared headlong at
the flood, my eyes bulbs in cages
obscured by split wires; frayed
circuitry pardoned for stowing light.


Also published at ALTARWORK.


Posted by Jason Ramsey

Christian. Dad to five, including two sets of twins. Husband to favorite person. Guy behind ALTARWORK and Amity Coalition. Interests: mental health advocacy, social equality, religious freedom. Writing featured at Patheos, Venn Magazine, The Bees Are Dead, The Mudroom, My Ink Dance, ALTARWORK, and more. Leading by leaps of faith and grace. Exposing goodness every day.

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