I saw the cracks in the paintings
for the first time in the mausoleum that day
and now I can’t stop seeing them
I should think it a curse,
but I know it is a blessing
Who wants to live
in a world of artificial
wholeness and unnaturally buoyant bodies
I like this place. I like the taste of truth.
Don’t tell me to leave.
I will stand here a little while longer
in the filling darkness,
just looking at them,
seeing their searching eyes
wandering for home, for truth,
knowing them finally as people,
as skeletons colored in by currents and streams,
in all their brokenness
i will stand
here a little while longer,
looking at the cracks
in the paintings,
oh, how the paint chips,
how beautiful, how true.