Prayer without indemnity,
prejudice, or blame,
weaponizing Diety…
a dogma-based refrain
Through Him our Divinity
rejoining heart and mind,
to truly know Who reigns supreme
last sacrament defined
Religion like the training wheels
discarded when we we’re young,
to free the rider in the wind
—His spokes forever spun
(Easter Dreamsleep: April, 2022)
Time's Grip
Trapped inside a wasteland,
dying inch by inch
Slave inside a rusted heart,
feelings chained then lynched
Later now than yesterday,
earlier than goodbye
Spooled like thread that can’t be sewn,
the needle asking why
But time contorts, reversing,
trumpets call you home
Eyes unspoken, voice untouched,
senses all atoned
Words on fire with freedom stirred,
reasons scorched and bare
A silence brewing louder,
new light burns through the air
Eleven Angels fly as one,
and twelfth, you join their throng
With wings now soaring inward
—time’s grip left dead and gone
(Airplane To Seattle: March 8, 2017)
Triage Verdad
Writing,
the only suture…
when truth starts to bleed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: April 16th, 2022 09:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 28
- Users favorite of this poem: Lauraš»
Offline)
Comments5
Lovely combination. Love the last 3 lines, so very true.
My favorites too. Thanks Bella.
A very fine trip, Kurt
Very kind. Thanks Jerry.
Dear Kurt,
Three great reads, especially āBeatifiedā.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful Easter gift.
Lauraš»
Glad you liked it. Thanks Laura.
Kurt
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.