beheaded baptist

barefooted john rest his head in his hand
the lamb not far away
the fields are blooming the drought soon will come
why do you look so sad?

revealing your hunger, your hair hides your eyes
when was your stomach last full?
wrinkles give way to a beckoning smile
so calm, so quiet, so near

you seem to be practicing the art of dying well
don't advance yet, don't recoil
there's no shame in mortality
brother john

this is not chapel, this is not church
anything at all but cloister
this is the dirt this is the dust
sea shells for your soul

the dove flys high toward the sun
melting like beeswax
radiante phoenix
your wings are on fire