Docked in dry sand

How can we be close to God?
When the anger flows.
Corroding inside out.
Does God bleed like me, with a fire in the veins?
Turning the petals of penitence to ash.
The devil can just read my mind.
Slipping underneath in the night like a snake under the doorway.
Yet I know I left the door ajar.
And a candle lit, to light the way.
We have wings, yet we walk through the desert of the day.
Complaining over each grain of sand we find.
And the pebbles of people in our shoe.
Hardening our skin to a lesser sin.
A dehydrated delirium takes me.
And these wings grow frail and dry.
And even though we try, we may never sail the ocean skies again.

07/01/202307/01/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: desert, Devil, god, PoetryTags: angels, desert, devil, fire, flight, flying, god, poem, Poetry, sand, snake, veins 22 Comments

Odium

How did the dignity get replaced.
By illusions which sink deep into the skin.
In a world that spins through the sky.
Scattering bruises and opinions.
On the path back to a god.
Who holds its head in shame.

16/01/202216/01/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: god, shadows, worldTags: art, earth, god, hurt, illusion, pain, poem, Poetry, shame, skin, snake, space, spin, world 3 Comments

Unconditional

Your love breaks these bones.
Though a hemisphere divides us like land and sea.
The weight of it impacts and splinters me.
A turn from you, blankets like an ocean of space.
That cold contempt you have for those you care for.
Always hurting the one you love the most.
A million miles always makes me cry a million tears.
A river of bleach stings the skin.
Carving a way down to an ocean of pain.
Unconditional.
A love over ripe and never plucked from the tree.
Blooming and baring in abundance.
There for your taking.
Mister sweet tooth.
This tree of life and love, grew from such wretched earth.
Out of mud thrown from lives ago.
It will always offer you shade and sustenance.
You would be the snake, in this garden of ours.
Yet it will remain.
I shall remain at the place of arrival.
With a heart and soul open for you till time collapses.
Unconditional is the treasure I place into your precious hands.
Treat it not like the stones in the pit of your stomach.
But more like rock broken from the seat of Sinai.
Stained in the divine.
And forever yours.

16/06/202116/06/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: distance, hurt, sinTags: distance, divine, garden, god, hurt, love, pain, poem, Poetry, sinai, snake, soul, soulmate, tears, tree, unconditional 4 Comments