Even after...

Even after I moved away
from the fires of you,
I still burned.
Heavily degreed,
like a slave child
toiling for naught
in the heat of the day

Even after I settled a homeplace
for my heart, my dreams
the reach of your arrogant pain
stifled my roads
like storm debris
in country, Southern places

Even after I took the tokens of you
Down off the altar place,
You reigned over my days
like thick, heavy clouds
threatening to burst with
chaotic Rains

Even after I laid down
some places of peace
for my hands and feet
you snatched away
my rugs
and created in me
a ruin I could not recover from

Even after I swept away the ashes of you,
you brewed up dust storms
like the evil winds
of forgotten
Western towns
and, scattered you
about my life once again

and, even after the pieces of me died,
Prostrate heart.
Fitful mind.
Hopeless abandon.
You still came here,
to my holy place.
A demon, man thing
taking all the notes I had to sing,
and, took again,
your reign as King.

Jason Christopher Johnson
February 9, 2012