Self-Portrait, Thomas Vause

 

 

 

The man I love says there is no God.

With lips that could bring the Devil to his knees

And a voice that could carve the Red Sea.

And me?

And me wishing I could believe him.

But I have called out to angels in between our sheets

And seen a woman’s thighs part and say grace.

In this place, there is too much sin

To not have a savior to sing praise.

And hallelujah be to the most high

For the sunset in October and a jar to catch fireflies

For a grandma

Who doesn’t pronounce the “r” in fire and is too scared to fly

But laughs with so much glory

You can see golden gates in her brown eyes.

See, how Layah’s laugh can heal a weary man’s soul

She is 30-cubits-high and only three years old.

When momma’s heart needs an ark

Her playdoh covered elbows are both stern and bow.

And momma may not be Mary

But every time I am crucified she has laid at my feet.

Tell me what science you seek

When every day she breathes

Must bear a miracle.

I want to say

“My love, the Lord may not walk this Earth

But it shows no shortage of His work.

When Jesus left, he blessed

Every valley and every peak, and He left you

Here with me.”