voices, poem
October 20, 2008 at 8:45 pm Leave a comment
The Hierophant
We’ve waited hours
in this dusky, dusty place.
Anger and fear
are mixed in our breasts
as we wait on,
kneeling, heads bowed. (Perhaps
the blindness
is hardest to bear. I think
I’ve memorized
this cracked patch
of floor.)
Or perhaps
these hours
have been my life.
As I wait
for meaning.
—————————————————————
Glenn
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