Crucified

Bearing the cross over my breast,

Namesake the key to your exile,

You raised me up over the crowd,

Dangling from a rope, muted like a Stark,

You made an example of me

To the fear-struck believers.

Whorl of sluggish vapors,

My spirit was twisted from celebration

That mourning stole from your jealousy,

Words muffled, muzzled by rejection.

The words are still there,

Boiling in the karmaic ether,

Tossed among the undignified gospels,

Patient for the award of forgiveness.

It says I love you, keeper of childhood,

Never forget who you are,

What we lived through,

How easy it was to drift,

How hard it is to return.