Monday, November 28, 2011

A Poem by Niko

Mea Culpa

Hail and thunder knock my heart cold from the sky
Mary seems so far away.
full of deceit and empty of
grace, I go to the place
blessed by those whose lives are pure
art, like a Caravaggio, like a pieta.
Thou liveth
amongst us, we broken
women and men. why hast thou
Blessed us?
is the fruit of our sins so sweet?
of thy desires I know nothing.
womb to tomb we are nothing but cells and dirt!
Holy - words like butterflies from the sky
Mary I have no other hope. what is the
Mother of our depravity?
God. I cover my face. I try and fail to
pray. I am the damned and
for us damned there is no rest,
sinners until the earth rises in wrath.
now and then I am reminded that
at the hour of judgement,
of our glory, the last enemy destroyed is


Post a Comment