Poetry reading – Wahibe Moussa live at Girls on Key

I did go also to Patmos Island
and I didn’t know that that was where Saint John had been even given the
revelation and I don’t know if anybody here knows the book of the revelations
that’s where we get all the stories about the six six six and the Beast the
numbers and all that stuff it’s about the end of the world basically I found
out when I got there that that’s on the island that’s where you know it only
happened then I’ve been particularly traumatized by the Book of Revelations
when I was an adolescent and yeah so that’s what this is about. On Patmos
island there are monasteries to gawk at and churches to kneel in, caves to fear to
enter and apocalypse to steel myself against the locals they point to something
in the side of a hill invisible to my eye they say there is Apokalypsis
I look back blank my mind refusing their information is the apocalypse a place on the tourist map? well they’re proud the walls in here st.
John’s unholy revelations murderous visions God whispered in his ear
he had them here written, framed in gold it’s what makes them famous every day I
think tomorrow I’ll go there I’ll face the holy beast that drove my kid self
crazy I’ll look Saint John in the eyes I’ll tell him thanks for passing on your
anxiety attack mate, it took half my life to shrug that monkey off but I did it on
Patmos they warn against doubt it’s a denial of God’s goodness they tell me
still though all I had to protect me was doubt so I held it fast as I
follow the signs along an uncertain path arrived at a small door.
I church school someone built on top of the cave I walk through stone washrooms long corridors clueless and hopeful as always my eyes just swivel taking everything in at once my heart on full bump, my feet beat stone my mind be words coming coming to you come in to my apocalypsis ellipsis of
polka lips though sleep so sleep so Matic apocalyptic, lip, tickle I came to a
door no fieldstone a church of unhurried quiet, dare I enter, dare I turn back. I went to the Cave of the apocalypse curious incredulous I went to the cave after so many sent me there no
no no it was I my choice to go there I went to tell old Yanis the theologian what
I thought of him thank you for infesting a defenseless child with his hell
numbered beasts well why else would a woman like me go there ay? Certainly not
to sit on a lone narrow yew wood bench and ball like a dam inside her had
been waiting to burst not to pour out some held in grief no certainly not that
the priest murmured behind a white waterfall of a beard with the local faithful their quiet murmurings my heaving undamnable tears
a strange dialogue couldn’t help shame any more than the tears low cave walls were
my only audience if old Yanis had lived there it was too long ago the cave was
empty of ghosts the air was a gentle breath that held me
my gutted sobs there’s no shame in tears it said be glad you have them.

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