Picture the girls
not in red
but white dresses
Standing beside
not pimps
but proud fathers
Picture the boys
not in black
but white armor
Standing among
not drunks
but proud sons
One day I will be
a mere crumble of bones
as once I was before
But in this moment on the hill
beneath the tree
among the many passersby
I see the ivory tower of God
and His golden clock
alive in the bodies of His children
Here is our holy humanity
here is the end of burning lusts
here is the baptism of eyes and breath
Here is our inheritance of life.
Written 6-10-08
Berkeley, CA