maranatha
i came, i saw, i scrawled
searching for significance
by clustering consonants and arranging vowels
your words, my words
less a lens than a house of straw
the huff and puff of anxiety a threat to it all
still i work
less out of expectation
than an attempt to avoid waiting
the wolf at the door
the baby cries awake
scratching is the sound i make
Dwight’s Top Ten Books of 2024
4 days ago
2 comments:
Very nice.
why does that poem remind me of spirtual attacks? in the womens group there was a reading of God hearing and understanding our groans...just what comes to mind:)
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