For They Are Their Own Places Poem by L.B. Temuco

I was blind in the world
Lost to you
Lost to you
Lost to you
With only my fingers probing
Trying to dislodge
The fawning and strutting
Of this awful virtue
That is too righteous
Too impetuous
Too ignorant of what we know can
Linger in hearts forever
For they are their own places
And blood burns in dark palaces
You stirred in disobedience of yourself
Reminded of the melting
We found in ourselves in crucibles
We called them summer places
We peeled back ourselves
And left only our eyes
And fingers
And gave each other
And gave each other
And gave each other
I love always the light you walk in
And the red waters
that tremble still after the storm