Rituals

I will sit still in the rain
letting heavy drops wash me like unction
in every bead drifts a bit of earth

I lean on the old poplar tree
it rains with rough leaves over me
my soft palm is pressed against the bark
as if it were a fresh wafer
I am a mere prey for tired homeless birds
their flight’s blue shadow fills in my shadow
pecking at my smile

it is cooler
I’m stumped piously
my arms are cracking and bending
I stick my hand over my heart
the only hollow left
saying hello to solitude

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Categories: My Poems in 2011 | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

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