Revisionist Poetry – I knew a God…, v4: A darker version

Before I knew a god there was a river —
not singing but pulling, a black lung drawing me down.
I followed that current like a confession;
the lark answered like something that remembers falling.

Before I knew a god there was a star,
a frost-scribed page in the throat of night.
I read the margin until the ink bled colour,
and the last line looked like an accusation.

Before I knew a god there was a rose,
its breath a slow ongoing wound.
I reached and fingers left themselves bloody,
the dew a bead of witness on my palm.

Before I knew a god there was a thorn,
and welcome was the word it taught me.
Migraine like a small detonated bell —
the ribs opened; something stepped through, name-less, bright, exact.