heaven somewhere
i once read in a creationism magazine that
we were all made from brown clay.
i know that’s hard
to believe, especially since your eyes look
like they were made from the sky.
why are you walking away?
when i step outside,
i like to think grace exists in the heated pavement and
palm trees. but before i put my sandals on,
before i try to find a ladder,
you’re standing there.
and i’ve lost all faith in everything
but you.
i can step into your shadow with my bare feet
easier than i can
step into the gravel.
i skip terribly across the
street, to the place you are;
i can step into your shadow
easier than i can climb up a palm tree
and break off the leaves.
but you keep walking away.
if you loved me without condition,
well, that’s a scary thought.
a hurricane might come from all
the chaos i bring .
wait,
a hurricane would knock down the
trees and cool the pavement. i wouldn’t
need to follow your shadow, then.
and who cares if we came
from clay or not?
if heaven isn’t in your shadow,
there is heaven somewhere
in the billions of clay pieces
and it’s okay that you walk away.
-Marianna Costi (In response to the Mouvement EP)