Chapter 22 part 2 - Leesie's poem

Hey my sweet CAYMAN SUMMER travelers! Look I'm early. I'm doing a live chat tonight on Twitter, so I need to download tweetdeck and get set up. You're all invited. A group of authors from DEAR TEEN ME are going to be talking about the project at #yalitchat from 9-11 PM EST. Hope to see you all there. I'm supposed to tweet to my teen self. Maybe I'll snag a vote or two for SING ME TO SLEEP's Goodread's campaign. 

As always, I look forward to your reaction. I'm not sure if these two poems work together. Still some rough edges to blend to make it flow. This finishes Chapter 22. Next scene will be in the car with Michael driving home.  

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK

POEM #??, SHE COMES TO ME 2

            Crying on Michael’s chest

            the wall I built to keep out the light,

cracks, splinters

            and in cleansing white glory

She comes to me,

a pure and shining presence,

knocking on my soul.

            “Sis. Hunt?”

            My grandmother smiles on my heart.

            Pres. X’s voice filters throough

the rapture I’m encased in.

“Do you know your

            very worst sin?”

defogged, unfuddled

reveling in perfection

            I sit back from Michael,

            wrap my arms around my chest

            so I don’t fracture into millions

            of pieces at the exquisite force

            so intense, so unearned, so blessed.

           

Along with my grandmother

            blooming in my heart,

            there’s whisperings of something

            that can only be Phil.

            I’m sorry, Leesie. I love you.

            I bow my head and whisper,

            “Me, too.”

            Michael rubs my back.

            “Are you all right, babe?”

spilling joy that

embraces my sorrow

they smile

and wave

farewell.

            Tears flow like water pounding

            from a spout, splashing, gurgling

            filling a baptismal font like the one

            I stood in at eight with my father’s

            hands full of power to cleanse me.

            Pres. X’s voice extends an iron rod

            to rescue me from endless wanderings

            in a faceless field of full of the lost.

            “Your worst sin, Sis. Hunt, was to believe

            your Savior has power to save everyone—

            but you.”

           

            I grasp Michael’s hand and meet the man’s gaze.

            “I testify to you,”—his words soft but strong,

            pierce my stubborn, stone heart,

            “He loves every vile murderer in every

            penitentiary and somehow, someday

            in the great Eternal realm, they will all

            find their own salvation through Him.”

            I rest my head against Michael’s cheek.

            He strokes my face and whispers, “Listen

             to him, Leesie. Listen. You need this.”

            I watch Pres. X’s mouth, studying every word

            it creates. “He waits with open arms,

            spread wide to welcome you home

            with love and forgiveness if you will

            repent.”

            Emotion overtakes me again.

            I sob with my head down on the desk—

            tears the only offering I have left to give.