Spell God

Poem by Dana Smith

I write it in the dirt today
in the bottom of the grave
where New Year’s worms ease
in the writhe or relent of human hate.

I write it in my own divided
heart. I write the letters
hung in the front room
of a shotgun house;

Cease fire. A phonic sounding
like the mass of Christ
in Bethlehem’s rubble:
echoed in the stonefaced child

The stars gazing through…

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Comments

I feel and share your pain and grief. Love.

By suehampton@btinternet.com on 29th March 2024 - 10:13

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