The Varying Wills

God willing, I’ll find my own way
down to the rust caverns, down to the dust
and seared calcite, stressed and cleaved,
God willing.

And God willing I will make a trance
of us, a Pan of us, all musics, impromptus
and guile. God willing.

And God willing we will take the rain
in our teeth, shatter on the brink of us,
barrel into the wall of us and bleed laughing.
God willing.

And God willing we will cast the first fist
at the faceless faiths, bent as clay,
that engender the hates of hedons
and lusts that only skins abide.
God willing.

For there is no god, God willing,
that will seek to stem the strides of us,
loose in the hills and running,
loose in the hills and ripping
our flesh in the brambles,
cloven and jagged.

Image: Tadeusz Lakota on Unsplash

2 thoughts on “The Varying Wills

Add yours

  1. I really enjoyed this poem – the poet eloquently scotching any and all suggestions that this beautiful world is anyone’s aside from its mortal occupants, walking tall in their knowledge that every thorn in every bush is part of their domain.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Peter. So happy to hear from you. And thank you for getting the clench-jawed repetition of “God willing”. I was hoping that this wouldn’t be read as a statement of faith.

      D

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: