You need to be more thunderous with your love of us.
Who knows? Maybe a thousand of misplaced souls
will be saved or destroyed, depending on your thousand moods.
Just don’t count and save this charming soul.
This she, would rather be alone with the red sunset of a May 3rd.
However, this sunset was dressed in the blessed bridal gown
of rain clouds and no rain fell upon me like the Holy Spirit.
Can the rain clouds be the bride-to-be for the night?
Alas they are not and no messages from the above.
God will dress up tomorrow acts of being uniquely sane.
No instead, the devil and I will undress the new day
from its holiness and the prayers that adorn it so well.
Yes God! You can chop me up and put the bloody bits
in your daily lunch of soup. Surely–
I would serve you better that way, one does hope.
Why must something pulsate like that, from my mind
and then it dare ask me–to spit upon God’s open hand.
What have I done? What has God done for all this trouble?
Say aloud a meek prayer for the souls who curse thee
for that’s all I have left now, standing before this world.
I’m alive. I’m alive.
Cathy–a 40ish poet, who lives in Northeast Pennsylvania. When she is not writing poems, she is usually working on her photography or enjoying nature. She’s bit of a private person, so no last name.