sapphic-shattered leadlights: a guant grievance

sapphic-shattered leadlights: a guant grievance

without ears to hear and eyes which see tall men rest atop tall stools on elevated platforms

and berate afflictions that arent their own so was the way of l’église

to tell the water to stop flowing downward and go uphill to tell me i am wronging myself and others through

wringing out the echoing ardors which beat so proudly against my own chest calling out to speak calling out to say my name speak who i am tell my story

but you hush keep quiet

you do not know about the things about which you speak you dont know the gravity you dont know their severity

but youre right i didnt know i was never learned i was wronged

i was told to hide to obey to be in shame

maybe not to my face indirect words grown on and flown through blessed grapevines and your tall winepress

kept me stifled and in the dark like a solemn candle trying to shine any light in a world without oxygen

i was drowning on land in the flood of emotions flowing eternally from your pulpit

but i found my oxygen and it wasn’t from your hypoxic breath i found it on my own

i read your texts i saw the truth i knew the Love that would never fall from your lips

because i saw the light between the verses before you let me see the tunneling light of my well-worn catafalque

i found Him