silent love

she chiseled out cold damp steps

where depth of marsh

breathed the flight of winged

crow, where steps

once laid in front of

church sunday, she drank

of holy water, poured into

a moor hole, stagnant preached

to, did the hand cross

motion;

 

but he didn’t come, she waited,

waited like plaster walls

and old chiseled

floors beginning to crack

with the same sound of

branches breaking,

and with frightened looks

plunged into a mire,

they stopped

breathing;

 

where do the birds go, they

fly to a church steeple

for sanctity, for absolution,

just like she sought

because she cheated

on him, a priest

branded her chest,

arm and a wrist, was

excommunicated, she

suffered;

 

she now lays dressed in black,

on damp step, sign of a

cross, pleading,

crying for forgiveness,

black crows take

to air, they breathe her

sorrow, tears falling

into depth of

marsh, it abstains her

guilt.

 

Copyright © 08/24/2013 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®

Image

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