Done Praying

I find myself 

A little torn 

From the moorings.

I fear I've lost 

My balance,

Tripped up myself 

In honesty.

I've given you 

All of me,

All my inconsequential 

Sometimes nervous 

Truths, they're like 

Loose teeth crumbling

Into my palms.

I try giving 

Them away 

But no one understands

How valuable 

They really have become.

I've cut those 

Teeth on my 

Own softness,

My flesh,

Even the bones 

My soul is said 

To reside in.

I've tested them

Against every faith

And every lost race,

Every good fight 

I've put down 

For awhile.

I can't return

The scars I've 

Given myself

Or the fear 

I paid for

But I've loosened

The corners of 

My mind,

Accepted the dark 

That strays there

And the light 

Weight of pasts

I've learned to 

Carry, arms outstretched

Growing heavy at 

Times, when mania

Tries to tell me 

Loneliness is curable

And God, what I can 

Remember of him, 

Tells me loneliness

Is cureable.

Salvation waits

In submission,

Turning my identity 

Inside out,

Stopping who

I am, sometimes 

An open wound, 

An odd ball, a never

Quite understood

Piece of happy vulnerability,

An open book 

With pages meant to 

Be torn. There is 

No salvation for 

Who I am, no 

Stationary moment 

When my thoughts 

Will pause and 

Let me be.

I cannot see 

How there is 

Any answer under heaven

That supplies 

Something other 

Than divinity 

Or damnation.

For me I choose

This shell 

I live in 

I've been afraid

To speak

For too long. 

A Dorman