Savior

[bi_janus]

Savior Victorious

Bi Janus

. . . all shall be well,

All manner of things shall be well.

Gods were rooted things,

whose parlors topped

mountains we visited

unshod, before we made

them airy and vaporous,

smudging their edges

out to every place.

Then we took them

where we went,

slung like papooses,

we making

everywhere our home

until the word

lost meaning.

Damn, you’re so easily

impressed by life eternal.

Victory, you call it

and you’re made

his jealous goad,

a crowner of sovereigns,

and cannibal.

To hell with the meek,

we do love the big winner.

What gifts of his glorious

incorruptible body

are you savoring today?

Well, sweetie, I’ve been there,

though not for three days.

I’ve managed minutes away,

enough to share

the hidden geist.

Is my power

a Savior’s mark,

the single notch

on my bedpost?

Tremble before me.

Hosanna, I kid you not.

The defibrillator’s hand,

not the Holy Ghost,

jerked me back

across the blood

red intractable river

to the community

of silence.

And the men and women

coming to the bedside,

preparing to anoint

the corpse,

saw the stone

rolled back, but

only miracle tarnished,

syndicated with no

angelic pronouncement,

God’s power, reduced

to parlor trick,

rendered pedestrian

when a Sodomite finds

the spark of resurrection.

Now, if you found

one facing life

professing beatitudes

all the while,

you should wonder

at him, her, not a deific brawler,

awe-filled by mercy,

and humble.

All shall be well,

All manner of things shall be well.