The Color Of Flesh

Leave me well loved
In this warm pink flesh
Or leave me alone
Just don’t leave me
Hanging from these words
Long and lonely
A sad story
Strung out
Spun out
Away from you
Crimson and blue
Cold but true
All too human
The blush and the hue

We construct the gallows
We hang from
Fashion the lumber
From our incarnate timber
Our bones
And the context
And meaning of love
Are found hidden
In the grain
The intensity and density
Of it are revealed
In cut things
In concentric rings
At the core
Where our love grew
Season upon season
Without needing a reason
Or a context
Because love is free-form
But held fast by skin
By the bark of trees
That spring forth and grow
A forest in our hearts
And we can not see
Where we are
Because of it

We can not see
Because of love
But we feel an ache, a chill
And know that Autumn
Is very near, and still
If love is dear
We will hang on
With a tenuous grasp
Reaching out to clasp
The hands of our God
Who grows our hearts up
Into trees
The leaves of which
Change colors and leap
Swirling and twirling
In incarnadine death
Preferring the name “Fall”
To “Autumn”
Because that is what love is
Falling into the ground
To rise again
In love
And full of wrath
Because love is
As strong as death
Warm and pink
The color of flesh

Jeff Jenkins



About scribblerjeff

wordswurdswirds is the first-time ever blog on words, language, and the culture they invoke, through the eyes, mind, and keyboard of Jeff Jenkins. Jeff is a Christian/outlaw, husband, father, reader, writer, theologian, philosopher, and pre-apocalyptic, pop-culture prophet of the new media, which is the same as the old media. There is nothing new under the Sun. When I am not writing this blog, I am selling commercial janitorial services, though in my mind, I am already at the California Coast with my family and friends. Word! View all posts by scribblerjeff

2 responses to “The Color Of Flesh

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