Memories of Christ
When I was a kid, where did I walk?
on the shore or on the tops of puddles
tiptoeing the surface, or did I splash
in furious play--disturb the waters?
Did I laugh, ignorant of necessity,
play with model sheep and plastic birds,
crawl in a sand box, before the desert --
before the devil marked my name?
The pictures of my childhood
have fissured from my memory;
my life is splintered at the base, remains
in a flurry of disputations,
and I pray to God to let me dream
I could’ve lived a life unheard, unseen.
No comments:
Post a Comment