If You Will Not Be

If You Will Not Be / Joshua Alan Sturgill

When I drank a lot, I laughed.

The Sun speaks invisibly
to the not-yet-life
within living things:

Not seed, but leaf;
not leaf but flower.

Then I drank a little more
and the abyss
began to open at my feet.

The Sun calls also
to the dead:

If you will not be yourself,
be dissolved and distributed.
Be more life for the living.

When I prayed my needs,
I had few words,
but eloquent in their honesty.

Then I prayed my wants
and became lost
in a sodden monologue.

Take away the leaf from the one
who will not flower,
and give it to the one
heavily in bloom.

Today, the Sun arrived at an unexpected hour.

Desperately,
I looked through the house
for something to offer Him

but the bread was stale
and the bottle
had long been empty