nat turner looks to the heavens

years later, some will credit this love of sky as a mere aberration

at best a whimsy born of heart sick

as if we haven't looked to the skies for thousands of years

a way to divine what faith alone cannot foretell

I live in a land where to say

i want to be free

is heresy-here my tongue blasphemes as the earth spins

what can I be in a world that makes my desire heretic

other than an acolyte of signs? I've seen corn sweat blood

like dew, god standing in a blaze of sky thicketed with stars

sharp and bright like oiled steel, beckoning me to look for signs

commanding

slay my enemies

, the moon eclipsing

the sun and heaven-I was baptized in its shadow

there god knew me not as a slave or fool

but crowned me son held me to her chest

as a mother would a precious child

spoke quiet in my ear

my child, fight

who was I to turn away from the story of my own creation?

I who pledged to follow every vision to its source

found myself here in jerusalem

I have known whips

iron

and prayer

I have known whole forests the pulsing veins of leaves

hieroglyphics of prophecy

I tell you

I have known my own end

hung and skinned

my body more tender then my spirit

my god, my mother lifting me into sky