Serpents in the Closet.

To commiserate with serpents,
Fling yourself to the dust.
Go climb up yonder tree
To gossip with the swallows.
If you want to complain to God,
Lock yourself in the closet.

All creation wants to be heard,
But nothing wants to listen.
Sing a song or chant a curse,
And still there is no audience.
But beyond the sky’s reaches
Remains a King with ready ear.

As blood hits the dusty floor,
This single event is marked.
A brokenhearted soul cries–
Permanent solution to silence.
Razorblades are not your friend,
The peace they offer is false.

A faint echo in the silence
Is never left unheard.
The only question at the end
Is who it was that listened.
And so off we go around again,
until we find our true hope.

{CK}