Go and tell them. Go out into Galilee.
Gamble everything for love.
Die. Break open. If you are to find God
you must stop holding on.
You are meant to fly out your window
into the soft green trees, drift
like a newlings feather down into
the sharp scented yellow blossoms.
You are meant to convene with the stars and
dance in the sunrise of resurrection mornings.
Go. Gamble everything.
© 2007 Kay McMullen