Why did you have to break the vow that I made?
Born again they say.
“You must be born again”.
The first for childlike faith.
The second for naïve visions of hands holding hands.
There was a day when I was baptized in the usual way…
With water on a Sunday.
The day I remember most though,
Is some dark November.
In a strange light, and covered in bedbug bites.
Some dark November,
I was born again. Twice.
I sold my soul to the quivers of my body.
To the way I heard someone screaming,
Far away, but embodied in choking chest.
I sold my soul to feverish ache.
To insomniatic rage.
To how carpet tastes like nothing but coarsens the cheeks.
I was baptized in that unusual way.
Wonderment crucified beneath the scathing hot rivers I cried that night.
Raised to walk in newness of life…
And it’s still the newest life, I don’t know how to live.
The newest life I never wanted.
Spitting image of this unfamiliar family…
Singing for the outside our dearest song-
“Never be born again twice”…
“No, never be born again twice”.