Reach in for it
Your rusted, iron-covered cross
Pour out your breath
Into the furnace again.
I think I found a better way to live
And I think I’ve found a better way to die.
And I’ve been fitting myself into that small space
That you set our for the screaming of the wind.
That is all I’ve ever been.
And sorting through it,
I never saw something so clear
As your hands bound up in prayer
Behind a closed door.
I thought I’d walked a better road, alone
Until I felt my feet turn into stone,
And that’s when I turned back.