Conscience Poem by Steven Federle
Conscience
Deep in the dark
of the wind-thrashed tree
a rasping voice calls to me,
demanding I see
what I cannot see.
The tree's dark core
deep shade obscures,
and try as I might,
I'm blinded by night
descending.
Yet still it calls, insistent and
shrill, when sudden silence
my aching heart fills
with cold
apprehension.
Oh Lord, whom have I
offended?
Sunday, September 4, 2011
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4/25/2024 8:39:56 PM # 1.0.0.1119
