Author: Caracol39 PM
Seven weeks, seven poems. Set in a season where everything sacred has lost its resonance. Or maybe it's just the new light.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Poetry/Spiritual - Chapters: 7 - Words: 1,291 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 2 - Updated: 06-05-11 - Published: 04-24-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2910101
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I don't deserve this pen,
or the candy,
or the translucent accordions of green paper:
honking out a pitiful fanfare
as they clutter up my basket.
I don't deserve the hymns,
the shamefully expensive new clothes.
light shines plainly—
on a Sunday, fittingly—
and the simplicity of verdant joy
shines through distant metaphors,
I'd thank you—
for the beauty of April lilies,
the splendor of a heartfelt song,
and the majesty of a perfect morning.
Then I remember:
You don't exist.
And I smile.