Still searching

I'm still searching for truth
in old answers

My hands are locked
inside the guts of poem
and I'm trying to write verses on skin
trying to sing from within,
trying to dance to my own tune
now that the melody is lost
and my heart can't find her strings
she desperately longs to strum

I'm learning day by night,
but what I do not understand
is why love never bends,
why Jesus died a ghastly death,
and how to mend those bridges
I accidentally burned

I keep searching for clues
in dingy grout lines,
squeaky hinged chests,
and a patchwork quilt my daddy bought,
but objects are only possessions
they don't speak with tongue
whispered secrets are forever tied
to the ones they belong

And just when I think I've found my way
stars leap from the sky,
the scenery turns to dust,
and my bones fill up with concrete
then my mind starts searching for truth
in old answers, again