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TO TAKE THE HOLY TUMBLE

I would be a poet of the wild
and wide world,
but time and time again
I must return to my own heart
and strive to be real —
to write this transformation,
to expel black thorns from my brain,
to turn again
in the free flowing loops,
to take the holy tumble
into God's bed:
happy and naked,
vulnerable and blameless,
blood splattered,
and sleepy,
sinking
into
a silent
shout.
Image: Vallsily Kandinsky
Poem © Blake Steele