Into the sweeping underbellies He came
As anchor to souls drowning in hopeless sorrow,
As sheltered embrace to those flayed by the winds of relentless piercing doubt and questioning,
As gentle light and breath of fresh cool air for the numb and trembling hearts hidden and covered in the deep darkness.
And there he waged war on their behalf.
Eager to get his fingers into the muddy mire of humanity
Eager to show them they were worth it all and even more still
Enraged against all that stood between his love and their freedom.
Screaming to a deaf world that he wanted them alive, not as dead playthings.
He didn’t make them to be dead playthings
He made them to be alive – creating, wrestling, unchained.
And not hades, no simple spot of death would still his raging heart.
He would burn all their idols – the ones they lusted after and the ones they were terrified of.
He would leave no inch of earth, nor its underbellies, untilled or unturned,
No drop of blood unbled,
For him
For her
For me.
What endless peace to know a weary wildflower is loved so by such an endless Love.
9/18/24
Sonia Kurian
Beyond the Surface 
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