... poem ..., ... poems ...

there but by the grace

at birth i
was sanctified
by finger sprinkles
of tap water.

later, i was dunked
into the tomb
and came up to life
and stumbled drunk
down the rickety
fire escape behind
the sanctuary wall.

i was sanctified by
fire, shut up in my
bones and otherwise
self contained
discontent. if added
over time, i suppose
i too could have shot
up a drug store,
or driven headlong
into oncoming
traffic.

i was sanctified by the grave
as it dug a small hole for my
youngest and itself.
so blood covers all sin. and
her blood was poured
out.

i then sat and pondered
this life and the after.

and reckoned…
who better to Judge what is
flesh than flesh. and leave
well enough alone; let Spirit
judge what is spirit.

and so i judged myself.

i was sanctified,
when i sanctified myself.

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