Sunday, August 21, 2011

Confiteor

This morning
I stand still in that which is pure
as liquid Light seeps down
into the dark chinks
where I hide my sins

as relentless illumination scours
those deep recesses
of self-deception

No need to strike my breast
my heart heaves and rocks
with each wordless mea culpa

Wracked
ransacked
still I stand in the Light

Then mercy comes in

2 comments:

  1. Ils sont beaux tes poèmes! Pourquoi ne me les as-tu pas envoyés????? D.

    ReplyDelete

Comments are moderated. The decision of the blog author is final.