There is no more holding back.

The Word

shines down upon you,

melts away the

cold, harsh resurrectories

you’d summoned,

shovels the hurt from your heart,

sets you

up in a smooth breeze of somersaults

and apparancies. This is not

the world

you had hoped to invent;

this is better. The word

shines out from within you,

vaporizes the stack

of cinderblocks you’d been

stubbing toes on,

the stacks which had cost you

the casting

of shadows, the gray shading

of breath, and the

mad, naked tantrums

of the impassable.

Freedom has finally become you.


you know what it is to let go.

Like slipping

out of a heavy shirt, the Word

renders you

weightless. Both a particle and a

wave, you

dance everywhere at once. There are

no more empty spaces –

nothing left to expect –

only Volume. . .

Brian Janisse (Jan. ‘18) adds, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.’ This poem is a celebration of the Source, our true identity and inspiration.

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