Transfixed to the sins of the light.
The gentle healing of an hour, lingers-
Like passions of crimes without penance.
Answers are few, when faith wavers,
In the long line of hollow trees.
Sprouting tendrils reach for the light,
Drying in the root, of evil's eye.
Marks upon the pew, of bended rules,
A revelation of death approaches.
Like the burning flesh,
Rises and falls, with each breath.
We look to the sky, sun, or moon,
To cleanse the naked soul's darkness.
And bow, with knees in dust and bone,
Bending my name, in the stains of the soil.
Author notes
lost faith, and the innocence of virtue
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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when i first read this it held more appeal and truth than it does today - and honestly i have no idea why. I think because i do feel differently today. It is an excellent poem which ends in a way that has me thinking about my lost faith and innocence and the absolving of sin for some reason. powerful writing - thank you for entering my contest elaine :f
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Very very good.
You are one of the best
on this site, my friend.
I am definitely going to
make the time to catch up
on reading you.
Love, Lane -
Wow Muddy, what a great interpretation of the concept ... and so beautifully sung in pensive tones that seem to celebrate rather than lamment the simple will to believe even when innocence is lost ... Anyway, that's the way I read it
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"Bending my name, in the stains of the soil"..oh, is that good.
Wow.
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"Answers are few, when faith wavers,
In the long line of hollow trees.
Sprouting tendrils reach for the light
Of the sullen moon"
Sighhh...Pensive & beautiful, my Friend...But you're not lost, dear Scribe...You're right here, where you belong...If ya ever need any light to shine on your path, to help you find your way, I gotsa beacon I'll loan ya...
Love ya, my Friend...Good luck in the contest, Sweetie...
Wanderer
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I love the entries in this contest, they are all quite personal and yours is beautiful in its sadness.
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