winter noon
brilliance without warmth
cold on a cavity or a shot
of whiskey -- how empty
this pain, how long
oh
Lord
this gut-shot cold
the last candle lit
advent and the congregation sings
rejoice
no praise
in my mouth
(a rough noise & people turning)
I am thinned like terebinth
tear
like paper
***
Psalm 6
Isaiah 6
I am instantly 'there'.
I am glad the blog is back. Been emailing as well. God bless. Write.
thrive!,
O
There?
I had more or less decided to discard this as nothing but self-pity. Which is legit as an emotion, but makes for a bad poem.
On reading it again I think it could be cut back and might be salvagable.