cotton galaxy: how to dance with the angels
i’m trying to dance with the angels but my feet are so
messy and tired and loud with excuses,
and my arms, the ones that are weak and not so coordinated,
they can’t reach to heaven even though i ask them to.
i’d like to quit all the nonsense that floods my heavy head,
so i can focus on what it means to be human.
and inch towards the better lived life,
and walk closer to the better loving God.
but anchors cut into my heart and take me down through the galaxy of sea,
to the place where there is no light,
no story of slippery creature beneath my feet.
so that’s where i spend most of my days:
in the trenches of the unknown,
in the weight of impending worth,
in the story of who i haven’t yet been.
but when the cotton comes undone;
the cotton between my ears,
the lying, stifling cotton
when it gets pulled out and washed away with the tide of all my former failure
that’s when i can finally stand up straight
and come through the gallons of lies that have been charging my way
that’s when i can see who i am:
an explosion of handcrafted genius that’s been in the works since before time began,
and i’ve got so much cause, so much evidentiary reason,
an abstract story in a pragmatic world,
a perfect equation to all this impossible chaos.
so i have to kick my legs strong and claw to the soon coming surface
because the fight isn’t too hard when i hear who i’m supposed to be-
when i remember that every ounce of tomorrow is for me, for all of us
and when our broken records keep hitting the wrong notes
we must get out of the water and push the tide back to where it belongs,
so our eyes can be set free and our legs ready to sway with the angels.
artwork: frederik akum
