The Saint

October 5, 2007 § Leave a comment

A message is heard.
A fathom repeats in the third.
No more hope in mankind,
pouring from the blind.
“I am lighting a candle-
to save my soul.” A vandal
laughs. Rising, flying
Above youth and intensifying-
blood shed.
A bible is torn and spread
across a crowd in the dark.
Picking up pieces—mark
A beautiful boy whose horns
are drawn on a face who mourns.
The world turns black;
falling, falling in a crack,
the bottom of a pit.
Climb out and split-
through the flickering night.
I see your spirit take flight.
Forces in a soul,
Places where you’ll
see the face of death,
feel its heavy breath.
“Do you believe in God?”
Never once did I see you nod.
Spared in the path of gunfire,
you prayed in the mire…
Not able to bear that day…
Roll over the ocean in grey.

 

© Sonya Rose

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