i wouldn't call it a poem, as such

I wrote this after reading Red Moon Rising, the story of the 24-7 prayer movement. There's a poem in that book that starts, "Hey Freak..." I don't know if there's a version of it on the site but there might be. I'd post it here but I'm not sure if that breaches copyright...

I had this weird dream about an all-night prayer room, painting all over the walls and stuff. I woke up and wrote this. It mixes a couple of the images I've come across in Christianity that have really stuck with me, rain being the gift of the holy spirit, and blood being a symbol of Christ's sacrifice. Whether that comes across or not is anyone's guess. If I tell you it was about 3am at the time, will you let me off?

- hey freak

I say,
"hey freak,
there's blood on the walls.
did you do that?
did you spread red on the floor?
someone's made a mess in here,
they've clogged up the atmosphere,
spread words on the walls but
YOU
have painted the whole room with gore."
you say (breathless):
"I've been here for just an hour, it wasn't me."
so I say
"I don't believe you."
you cut me off:
"well you should, I didn't paint these walls with blood,
some guy walked in and slit his wrists over there."
the world slows down a bit, sort of
lurching like a ferris wheel.
"what?"
"yeah, this guy, talked to me a bit, then
went into the corner and picked up a knife.
I didn't even know there was one.
he carried on, raised it high and smiled at me.
'don't worry, I know it's scary,' he said,
'I love you, y'know that?'
I just sort of nodded, grimaced.
he smiled back, so real I reached out to him.
I sort of saw it before it happened and I
called out.
it hurt because I knew what he would do
and I wanted so badly to stop it.
I jumped forward but he just smiled and
sunk the blade in.
I don't remember much then,
I closed my eyes and prayed.
I felt like something big was changing and then
when I opened my eyes the walls were dripping.
so I've been sitting here, covered in this blood,
trying to figure stuff out."
I stare at you.
"aren't you gonna clean up this mess?"
you smile.

"nah, haven't you heard? It's gonna rain."

- Fiona Kennedy (no shit, sherlock).