You are sacred and profane.

A poem on feeling and enduring.

you are sacred and profane

i crave you like sex,
like cigarettes
like moths 

crave the flame

you are sacred and profane

you illuminate like the works
of caravaggio,
you are surrounded
by darkness                     

and yet—

you glow 

as if there is a fire
burning   
somewhere    
deep within

you are sacred and profane

i pray 
you never attempt 
to hide it

as saints do their vices,
as nuns do their vibrators,
as cardinals do their violence

you are sacred and profane

you are like the andalusians
of ancient spain,             
those born of a time 
where temptation
was a sin,    
where eye contact
was fornication

you are sacred and profane

you are mirada fuerte
you are the spanish word 
for strong gazing

when you stare, 
you grasp the subject 
with the fingers of your eyes
and you turn it over 
in your hands

before you devour it whole,
as if your are starving
for beauty

you are sacred and profane

you are a nightmare         
for those who sleep walk             
through life   
with their eyes            

wide shut

you are the hands           
that clutch their shoulders                      
and shake them                   awake

you are sacred and profane

you are like the scorpion—
you were alive 
before man   
    
and you will be alive  
long after
man has come 
and gone

heat and ice,  
disease and famine,
war and subjugation

you will survive it     all

even in the moments  
you wish not to, 

you will survive it     all

for you are sacred and profane.

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