Find

One day I will find, my love,

the walls that throw my voice

back at me in angry echoes,

and I'll understand.

One day I will find, my love,

those twisted bones that

splinter as they bend

in reaching for sustain

and I'll feel nothing.

One day I will find, my love,

the shards of words you

coughed from behind frosted glass,

wrongly convinced of your naked solitude

and I will know you.

One day I will find, my love,

a voice that bleeds

and forces take from the hands

of the thick-necked sighing affluents

and I'll never want again.

One day I will find, my love,

the foresight that grasps

the profound linguistics of sorrow

before it incapacitates all movement

and I'll smile as I write.

One day I will find, my love,

the ability to access

every shadowed corner,

damp and destitute in

bourgeois denial of

the existence of thirst.

I'll  breathe slowly,

the warm smell of death

and lying elixirs

and I'll know truth.

One day I will find, my love,

the courage to clear my throat

from small talk and conditioning,

to whisper when all else

shout white noise from

lofty tenements, mirroring

enemy states with whom

the official policy is only an aggressive glair,

and somehow I'll be heard.

One day I will find, my love,

the ability to dodge my own words

and catch the bullets of

someone more significant

and die with that perspective

burying itself far deeper than

skin and sinew

and all decomposing cells.

One day I will find, my love,

my way back to the good memories

that always induce weeping,

and I'll sigh a deep, happy sigh.

One day I will find, my love,

the sense to break

the gaze with my own contentment

and avoid it's hypnotic stair,

falling through the mass graves

of expendable work-force

and the layers of generation's potential,

all with clipped wings

and there I'll begin.

One day I will find, my love,

the illusive realisation that

my gravitational pull is

minimal and creates no orbit,

and the snakes that circle me

are after my blood. I'll let go of the

pointless ambition of significance.

One day I will find, my love,

the memory enough to hold

the message from repeated lessons

that need not repeat

and I'll grow and inch in height.

One day I will find, my love,

the secret of communication

masked by waves and wires

buried in ink and soil

and liquid crystal display

and its mud-stained

sun-bleached container

may well become my home

and I'll belong.

One day I will find, my love,

the beginning of the maze

where all defiled flesh amass

at the apex of the underworld

groaning for redemption

fully knowing the bitterness of

Adam's fruit and Cain's jealousy

and I'll not fear for myself.

One day I will find, my love,

every golden calf in this

dilapidated mansion

weathered by its own decorations,

soak the place with petrol

and wait for the baking sun

to burn away the chaff

of trinkets shackles

and I'll be able to move.

One day I will find, my love,

the secret password

to the mind of every tortured soul

and I'll never be lost for words.

One day I will find, my love,

the hopeless wanderers potential

buried beneath every conscious

effort to forget by following

the footprints that could

stained a dirt road,

and I'll care not for footprints.

One day I will find, my love,

that the answer to all desired emancipation

is to transform perspective from

my empty hands to theirs

and I'll escape.

Yes, it's very long. Written Jun 2011;

a poem about ambition amidst either opposition or just plain apathy.

And about discipleship.