Vachon Imagined

She sat before the image they called Christ
as if the frame were a doorway
as if wood could listen.

dressed in ledger.
written in prose.
hung like verdict.

and she said—
show me the way.

and the image answered:

no voice.
only inside.

live the way.

live.
not as escape. not as argument.
not as explanation stitched to ego.

live the life given
from what cannot be named
or held still long enough to define.

do not follow desire as ruler—
it is a candle in wind
calling itself sun.

follow life.
what you want is small beside what you are already in.

and knowing—
is not possession.
it is surrender that stays awake.

know me—

not as figure. not as doctrine. not as name.

I am what moves when you move
and does not stop when you refuse.

I am in every body
without asking permission.

no privilege.
no hierarchy.
no exemption.

dust and crown are the same breath
speaking differently.

know me.

know your life
without translation.

this is the way.

there is no teacher here.

there is no friend here.

these are soft words
made to make terror livable.

strip them.

I am not above you.

I am not beside you.

I am the living of you.

and your life—
is the only scripture
still being written.