in the last light, I feel my back gathered
solid stoic stiff as a board as if braced against
what is to come
they say when it is too painful to stay, at last,
at last, we go
so I'll dial this phone number, my feet will
extend and reach one step upon another
to get to your door, to greet your stranger's face
to listen to my own voice and the scratch of your pen
maybe you'll have a window I'll look out
I had to get as old as Jesus to get here - the
willingness to die in order to be born again isn't
something I come to easy
be gentle if you can
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment