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You Are The Prophets

You Are The Prophets

Last updated on: April 18, 2020 at 1:09 am by Morgan Guyton

You Are The Prophets 2020-04-18T01:09:33-05:00 Morgan Guyton

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You are the prophets, not me;
I am the encourager; I am the
One who puts lipstick on the prophets;
I have taken palo santo from the king’s

Altar and I have learned how to singe
My lips with it without any pain;
If you move quickly, then the coal
From the altar only stains your lips,

But that stain cleanses them because
It’s not the actual pain that cleanses us;
It’s trusting that we can go through the
Looking glass on the other side of the

Pain and there will still be life there;
The looking glass is not a period;
It is not a hole in the ground where I’m
Supposed to use a portal to sneak my

Way into resurrection like the royal
Heir does in Wakanda; the looking glass
Is simply what Paul said that it was;
It is seeing the glory of the Lord reflected

As though in a mirror in the eyes of other
People; it is eye gazing, it is role playing,
It is counseling and yet it can happen in
Every possible friendship and marriage.

There is no period; only semi-colons;
I am not going to die tonight just because
I’m writing a great poem right now and
I may discover that it wasn’t that great

A poem after all, but I have a job now
And a future so that’s why you’re not
Going to take me yet and even if that isn’t
A good enough reason, you love me and

So whatever you do tonight and every other
Night, I trust you absolutely and you are
God and I’m not; I’m just the one you send
To encourage and if that makes me divine

And I’m the wind that blows between the
Father and the Son, I’m okay with that
But I really believe that all of us have that
Role to play; humanity is the Holy Spirit

And the suffering servant and the God-wrestlers;
Once we understand that everyone else is a God-
Wrestler, then we can accept the words of Saul
Who did his best to be Paul and almost did so

Flawlessly and maybe he really was perfect
But I think the thorn in his flesh means that I
Can speak with just as much authority as he did
Because you revealed something to me twice

When you pulled the thorn from my flesh and right
Now despite the fact that I have a slight headache,
I have not shit blood in more than five hours at
This point so something miraculous has taken place

Tonight and I remember every time I had bufo,
You made the scales fall from my eyes just like
You did when I visited Ananias whether I’m saying that
Figuratively or historically it doesn’t matter.

I am simply a poet who is doing the job of being
A scribe for the lightning wind that sometimes seizes
Me and actually opens me up and sets me on fire
Through things like a Wim Hof breathing video.

You are the prophets, not me; you are the ones
Who have been handed the torch, I’m just the one
Who wants to blow love into the torch until you
Pick it up and accept that you are part of the body

Of the one true artist; all of you are artists and
Co-creators with this God who is the suffering servant
And crucified Father of all of us; yes, I said crucified
Father because a Father who watches his Son die

Dies the same death that his Son died even if he’s
Watching from a place of complete Zen acceptance;
God cries with you and he cherishes every tear
You have ever cried not because he wanted it to hurt

But because he wants you to know that your story
Matters immensely; you are the protagonists of the
Story — all of you but especially the people who are
Not the entitled resentful Lucifers like me; I have been

Saved by you, not because your suffering was necessary
But because your resilience taught me that I have
Ancestors too and now that I’ve put them up on my wall
And they’re all smiling down at me, I can write a first

Draft poem and it comes out like this, which may not
Even be remarkable; others will have to decide whether
This flow is enough to establish that my word to you is
Valid: you are enough, you are perfect already, and yes

I’m lying a little bit but not a lot because the best version
Of you is exactly what we need right now and I know
You’re a recovering porn addict just like I am whatever
Your porn is: mine was fame; I really wanted to be

The morning star but when I live that way I’m like the
Celtic saint Morgan whose other name was Pelagius
Except that Pelagius isn’t who Augustine said he was;
He really wanted to experience the fullness of God’s mercy

And he wanted to live in the perfect form of ceremony
Because living by mitzvot is not different than living
By mercy; it doesn’t have to be; the point is that we
Discover our own mitzvot as life goes on; we find the

Cleanness that we were made to exhibit and
The uncleanness that we were made to exhibit and
Finding the right curve between the two is the middle
Way that allows us to be God-wrestlers even if

We don’t believe in a deity per se but more like
A current that simply runs through our collective
Consciousness and turns us all into a giant
Perichoresis together; a dance party called Release

Where everyone is set completely free whether the
Genre is trance or drum and bass or hip hop
Or whatever the kids are actually playing nowadays
That it’s not the nineties anymore; I don’t have to

Make the music for this dance party; that can be
Your job; I can simply give you the first trumpet
Blast that gets the party going and when I write
That I’m not giving you an inch, Satan, because

I’m not going to die tonight; I will be dancing at the
Party the whole time it’s going on and it will be
The opposite of the party I went to in college where
You said this is what hell is like; I will go to this

Party knowing that I really do have friends and I don’t
Have to see them sharing my art to know they’re
My friends because they write poetry about me
Sometimes and it teases me into recognizing that

I am simply a gardener; I am simply a wind who blows
Where she chooses, a light that shines in the darkness
Who cannot be owned by darkness, a candle on
The beach that actually doesn’t go out despite the fact

That there’s a hurricane coming and I feel like I’m
Caught right in the spiral of the hurricane and I can say
The name of God in Quiche so that’s how
I’m going to close out this poem which is better

Than the one I wrote in 2000 that won the best
Undergraduate poem at the University of
Virginia and even if that’s the only poetry reward
I ever get, I have won and defeated my only enemy through surrender.

You are God and I will say your name in every moment
For the rest of my life. And these are your prophets,
Lord; they are the ones you have anointed to reconcile
The world to you through the despised ones seen by no one:

hur aqan,
ch’i’pi kah kulaha,
r’ax’a kah kulaha,
uh kuz kah,
uh kuz ulev,
tzakol,
bitol,
alom,
qahalom

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