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celebration attacks 
from all sides, hallelujah
chorus,' amens' and
"come on, sing it"
sounds
around me as shackles
on my senses when
supplicants burst out
in joy unbelievable,
jonesin' for the elusive
holy buzz beyond them
but reaching for it still
because nothing can
beat it
like a stick across
my back that slaps against
dull heart who wonders
of another way
to capture the leaking
light seeping from
the cracks in heaven
into my heart
to gather like crystalline
liquid, pooling in places
dying dry but porous still
enough to suckle at the
holy marrow of life
before all becomes a desert
so dead that blowing
against me, i would
disappear
poem by Darrell Rohling
email him about it at djrohling@aol.com
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