we have embodied consecration;
sometimes the burial has been an act of love,
sometimes it has been a declaration of war.
there is holiness embedded in our bones,
spilling transcendent and heavenly
over the battlefield of our broken bodies.
we are blasphemous by nature,
and no longer celestial, having opened our wings
only after turning our backs on god.
this world is destined to be abandoned
to the people made of poison
who tried their best to pollute us.
let us go in search of kinder heavens.
the next time will be sweeter.
By Beth Swanson
Beth Swanson is a writer based in Wellington, New Zealand. She enjoys walking by the water, daydreaming, and writing about feelings too big to be contained. She has previously been published in Rose Quartz Journal and can be found on twitter @bethrswanson.