We are not angels
we are not perfect statues
fallible, we fall
dust ourselves off
& get back up again

we are not sentinels
we are not perfect soldiers
we wander off the path
but it keeps finding us
the road untraveled is a myth

everyone’s footsteps are
muddling up god’s perfect crime scene

dust overwhelms us
yet we get back up again

the path keeps swallowing us whole
the past keeps us burying holes

we are not temples
we are not perfect shrines
we worship when we need to
we say thanks only when necessary
polishing teeth to hide what we eat

I am not my own armor
I am not a shining knight

I like an altered mind
much more than a troubled mind


2 thoughts on “Altered

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