"Stigmata"
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
03/05/08 6:21 a.m. pst
Feel the
indentations in the skin of my hands
Look at the fresh scars adorning my side
Come to me as you have in the past
Without question or wondering
With only pure faith and all abounding love.
Stretch out your own hands
Embrace my past pains and breathe deeply
Hear the sounds of the brutal inconstancy
Quarrels with logic and reason
Edicts borne of sophistic conclusions
Yet foretold for centuries
Sit beside
the still waters
The still roiling waters of regurgitation
Drink with the fresh thirst of knowledge
Speak freely yet hold this knowledge close
Never let a suspension of belief be your guide
I remember the time before science
The time before questions and yearnings
The time was short yet brilliantly illuminated
By the light, the way, and the Godhead
Forbidden events caused the locking of the gate
But I prepare the way again if you will touch my robe
Puzzled
percolating cognizance of prehistory
Or solid faithful adherance to dogma
Wavering plausibilites aren't carved in stone
Yet the stone shall be rolled back
And the light of the way shall shine through
Everlasting, burning brightly in the darkness
No one is left behind
No one is barred from the door
The holes through which the light shines
Forever scars but headlights for the masses
As I hold my hands out to guide the way for you all.
Poetry
2008
