The church of my soul

those who took care of the convent’s garden
left the dry trees
at god’s will
no more sunrise apples there
only a few empty nests abjured their shadow
on the straight road in the middle

as if the half paralyzed world
raised with all its might to sit up
the rest of the garden bore fruit

it had been hard to climb the stairs
on my knees
but as a good christian
how am i supposed to descend them my lord
the same way

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Categories: My Poems in 2014 | Leave a comment

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