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John 3:5 You turn back, look, and see those piles of ash, then wonder how your footsteps avoided all that mess. You waited long enough to turn, and not be fried. You wonder: what power kept you balanced on it's side, alive, and let you abrogate its own decree? It loves you as a son, whose real Son paid your penalty. In this Evening Land the moon is hidden, the stars begin to hide. You shine your weapon, trying to capture the last light, turning your hilt. One century, a little more, past horseback, past candlelight and torch, the same weapon, same carriage, assigns, accoutrements, the Dragon, same. Turn the hollow words inside out: you possess them like your love, cherish them the same, in memory. What ignites you? The long shadow of the Church, with all the weight it carries, fed by irony and history, its bony fingers, relatives, and saints, a dark hooded thing behind you. You are Luther, Calvin, vital and spoken to. It could not sustain its carcass form, or you. Are you ready? It is your time to leave. When the water splashes into metaphor, You will wawl, then feel the Spirit breathe. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2011-09-30 00:29:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66667
I'm fairly speechless after reading one of the best poems
I've come across in a long time. I've no idea where to start because the whole
of tis poem has such depth beyond the norm of a amateur writer
that it's so hard to point out all the best lines in this.
They are all inclusive and comprehensible with spiritual tones
added in to take a reader to a dream like state - and want to stay there
for a long time.
You are my fav poet here, and you have outdone everyone of us
with this poem.
You own this; you have stood up and shown how your talent
shines with every line in the memorable write.
blessings to you once again for your continued skills in writing,
Deni