and you don’t have to drown to learn as much
(but you will).
Why do you stare at the horizon
home is a journey and not
the rebirth you’ve been looking for
every single renaissance is (out there)
and for so long you’ve been
God’s paint is dribbling at your ankles
rubbing against your sacrificial shins,
whispering to the oil inside your body
to come out and play.
You look at that horizon
you want to unravel but
the tide has never been strong enough
you want to go somewhere
and never come back
and you want to trade all those bad words
for just one good bye
hang them from your palms,
hold them above your head
wade out into the canvas,
in the holy
wait for the good one.
the tidal wave that takes you back
and it (never) comes.