March 21, 2008

Burn Like A Prayer

It's late on a Friday, I have a cold, and I'm pilled to the gills on all manner of strangely colored things that I'm surprised the FDA approves of. So. What is there for it but a little bit of bad poetry to pass the time with ...

they burn their prayers like i burn my songs
a gift to the immaterial
of whispered wishes
just burning myself away and they say
yes
exactly as you should
like a twig in the fire
praying for rain and the spring
immolate your mind
and a funeral pyre of your fears
a torch of heart and will
be burned
give in
let slip
and give way to something other
or be sealed in the persistence of flesh
after the spirit resigns to its foiling
burn
or rot in place, unmourned
the death of hope
entombed in living skin

Posted by natasha at March 21, 2008 10:47 PM | Fiction | Technorati links |
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