like a norse god, he blundered
one eye blind, depth-perception unfathomable
with a posture indicative
of one who had, in his short earth-bound dwelling, seen everything,
and cared nothing of receiving.

he was a soothsayer, a man of words
a man of "visions"
the televised spiritualist who,
through some misunderstood force,
had the ability to heal with what
i believed were lies.

and when he lay his hands
upon my sin-afflicted body
the hammer of thor struck me
in secret spaces that
only the ancient dead gods and i had knowledge of.
salvation, the burning light within,
ecstasy in the idea of higher power,
the explosion of spiritual epiphany
(or so i thought)
infused soul with body,
diety with flesh.

he saw with one eye
only that which could be possessed.

for a moment i thought it was i
who had hung him upside down, hoping
my heart would be his tree of life
and instantaneously worried
that he would find the runes concealed there.
of course, sagas are harder to read with one eye blinded.
i cut him down
and as he lay, half-conscious and subject to the forces of nature,
another burst of salvation blossomed
into that life-giving well known only to women, goddesses,
and valkyries.

resistance was only an afterthought;
who among us can resist god?