Zephyrus and Aura

I think to call your name.

“Be good,” you said.

So, I let the wind carry it instead;

The rustling chant of leaves
Is atonement, my sins appeased.

I listen then, carefully
For your response on the breeze.

Lark and Eagle: Call of the Queen

Pomegranate juice and eggs;
Each seed within the fruit,
Blooms into a new truth.

Bright as blood

Marked both the entry and the exit wound

Atop shards of glass, purified 

By the heat of the sun

I laid my body to dry.

Emptied now
In shame, I rest;
Precious liquid, stolen from me,
Not sold on grocery store shelves
Further evidence of your generosity.

Though the snake at my doorstep
Said you were dead to begin with
I study each day
To become a resurrectionist 
And love you once again, my Lazarus.

I hold your kingdom
The dove in my chest
I bid you to awaken
And return to its nest.