Someone Left The Door Ajar

All the doors of The House are open
Yet not a soul comes in to kiss The Son
To take Him by the hand
And whisk Him to His resting place


All the windows of The House are open
Yet not a voice calls out to Him
To invite Him to sup
At the head of their table


Abba Father is old
He sleeps next door
With His eyes open
Waiting for Death
To stir Him from slumber
That never comes


(They look alike.}


Abba Father sleepwalks
Sneaks up on Me for one last puff
A Mezuzah reminder
Of The Temple's Glory on Earth
How It's glimmer awakened Him
From a forgotten dream


{He complains about the saliva.}


The bedroom closet has no door
It's stuffed with Boxes
Of promises, promises
To be broken time and time again


That was Her error
She forsook her Heavenly throne
By losing faith in her Firstborn
Who had all the makings of a King
To haunt the streets of New Jerusalem instead


It's not the same
When the cute Archangels leave
For summers, gossipy wars
When the Cherubim stop chirping
When all I want
Is to be with My lover
Beside a bonfire


Only My Spirit witnesses your hand reach out
To touch the embers of My abrasive face
Among other tangibles
Mere Words of Knowledge can't express


The bedside lamp-string dangles
Like a limp noose
A memento to remember
Hamzeh and Loghman
Exchanging blood transfusions


How appropriate, since you're privileged to live innocently
Frustrated by your virginity
Your B-sided, one-sided celibacy


Not knowing what It is
To have your bed quake
From Lovesickness


If I were given back poetic Revelation-
From the head of the man that lost his own just for Me
That heard My Heart from the side of his decapitation-


It'd read, "Paired,
Not alone"
Like my former self


But each day I grow older
Like Abba Father
Too moved to move
From beneath the striped covers


He is the children's book I've always wanted to birth
About things that don't fit
About awkward glances
That secret face between Paradise and snowflakes


He's become the child protagonist
Beset by murky fireflies
Who's forgotten His own name
Out of Manna hunger


It's become a mystery,
A scary movie:
Should we/I turn off the light?
We could have slept long ago...


Someone left the door ajar

 

©2008 Clifford Rivera

Cliff is a Queer-Paytan currently residing in Ginsberg's Rockland. His Y-shuik piyyutim have appeared in The Matthew's House Project, Sojourners Magazine, The Other Journal, Infuze Magazine, Bohemian Alien, Blackmail Press, and Giant Revolution.


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