Tag Archives: rachel joy scott

“Icabod”

Rachel, Rachel, I’ve got Ecclesiastes in my satchel, bad shit in my head.

I can’t find peace in this world. I can’t find a quiet place to lay myself down.

I looked to you when I came out of the night, I followed you like the North Star.

I still look to you, but faith is broken, impossible. The church door read “Icabod”.

Crosses don’t cast out the demons, not mine, not the ones pointing guns.

Crosses sharpened, the guns point at us, the fucked up, the not in line.

Rachel, Rachel, Jesus gave you a soft, tender soul, but their’s are sharp.

If love is gone from them, if death comes for us, what did I ever believe in?

Rachel, Rachel, I stand in the middle of Henley St. Bridge, the cold wind calming.

The mermaids here were hunted to extinction. The sweetwater fouled forever.

They just use, they just abuse, they just make excuse for innocence stolen carelessly.

Was their God ever your God, was there even a light from the eye in the cross?

Sink down to the cold sidewalk, back to the edge of the bridge, wind breathing.

Rachel, Rachel, they failed you, and I have failed you, and no one cares at all.

A goddamn smoke might have once calmed me, but not even hymns call angels here.

Rachel, Rachel, I have no hope of light winning, of us laughing in heaven, in the light.

 

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Near To Me

Mercy Lee is sitting in front of her highschool, in the green and manicured
lawn, eating her lunch. She brushes stray strands of her long, auburn hair
from her face as she takes a bite from her sandwich. There she is; real,
alive, and near to me.

I walk across the parking lot. This is as close as I could get. So little
time to save her. I feel my heart thumping in my ears. My throat is tight.
Have I come soon enough?

I make it to the little courtyard in front of the school where Mercy sits.
She has stopped eating her sandwhich, and is looking up at me. She smiles.
Those pictures never showed how beautiful she is, here and now.

“Hello.” Mercy says. She places her sandwhich down on her lunch bag. She
offers her hand. For a moment I just look down at her. I’ve finally made it
to her. I take her hand.

“My name’s Mercy.” She says. “How are you?”
I don’t reply. I just pull her to her feet.
.
I hear doors slam out in the parking lot. The two gunmen are walking our
way, laughing. So little time left.

“They’re here Mercy. We must go.” I tell her. I try to pull her towards the
soccer field, to safety. The gunmen never went there on this day. She’ll
live if she follows me.

“What’s going on.” Mercy asks, refusing to follow. I turn to her, look into
her gentle eyes.
“Those two students, Rick and Joe, are going to attack the commons area and
kill as many people as they can. I must get you too safety.
“No.” Is all she says.

She pulls her arm free of my hand. She runs across the courtyard, to the
front doors. Rick and Joe are, maybe, fifty feet away. I run after her.

Mercy makes it to the doors. I’m too far behind. I cannot catch her.

“Everyone! Run! Someone’s coming to hurt you!” I hear her shout. She’s
standing in the door, holding it open. I’m almost to her. I’m stretching out
my arm. I few students turn to look at her.

A loud shot rings in my ear. Another one. Mercy‘s body writhes, then falls
to the ground. Rick and Joe are laughing. The students turn to see where
Mercy has fallen, sees the others with their guns. Everyone starts to run.

I slam my body into Rick, knocking him to the ground. He hits the cement
sidewalk, yells a swear. I try to wrestle away his gun.

Joe kicks me in the back of the head, and pulls me away off of Rick. He
holds the gun on me while I lay helpless on the ground. He smiles like a
viper. Then he fires.

Rick and Joe enter the school. I crawl over to Mercy, leaving a trail of
blood like a wounded slug. She is already gone. I could not save her.

Angel On The Edge of Breath

Angel on the edge of breath,
in the morning fog,
in the misty rain on my skin.

The things that burn in fear
burn your photographs to ashes.
I’ve forgotten your hand in mine.

A gun to point, inward or outward,
is just a dragons tooth tearing skin.
But I don’t know how love can win.

The world it is burning, without end.
You blow on an ember of lighted star.
Let it lead us to peace, to an end.

Rachel, Can You Hear Me?

It’s a cool afternoon in a Colorado spring,
Green and lush and blue into the sky.
The snow is gone for the summer,
and life begins again beneath a butterscotch sun.
I saw your grave, the marker of your life and death,
and I remembered, I remembered how your spirit
led me to The Lord and to a better world out of shadows,
to a Light that made we clean and whole again.
But the Light has gone dark, the butterscotch sun
soured into vinegar, and I see the blood on Jesus’ hands
is not solely his own, and I’ve seen him sold out for
silver and power, and a sneer on the lost in the gutter.
I try to be loving and giving and forgiving like you,
but faith slips away from me, as God is silent in his undoing,
in the tears of those left out, left behind, and cursed to night.
In those that wonder how the Light burns the world.
Rachel, can you hear me? Can Jesus or anyone else hear me?
I need bravery and faith to fight these demons and their kin,
those who wash away the world with the blood that saved them,
that stamp on the cross while kneeling before it.
Rachel can you hear me? Can I feel the heart again that led me
to Heaven and the hope of peace after the madness burns me,
that showed the world with the Light behind it, bright and warm?
Can I feel close to the way you showed, when you spirit took my hand?
Rachel can you hear me?
For Rachel Joy Scott