Prophetic Silences

holy chaos
new order of being
we are the
cries and war paint
of the fallen
and ascended
the cold earth
on still warm hearts
the two clutched palms
of the life-givers
and story-tellers
these scars
run like rivers
and paint their pasts
and scream their sermons
these reminders
stand taller than mountains
but they'll never
manage to massacre
merely to strengthen
and light fires
in heaving chests