The Unforgiven Poem by Marc G. Auber

The Unforgiven



My fort folded beneath a crumpled pane -
a window that envisioned truth,
which stretched far beyond all horizons.
My mind then forfeited its fathomable fervor.

Today, I trample with aching, sun-burned feet
along dusty trails of chipped limestone -
cowhide sandals ripping from my left heal.
Weary, my course has grown without direction.

Now, tears soak my salt-sprinkled sash -
my soul each day withers upward, skyward.
Tomorrow, I shall scream for my copper kettle,
one that could collect forgivable, moral sins.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Tulika Jain 18 April 2007

This poem is really high on spirituality.It shows your deep understanding of humanity.

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Marc G. Auber

Marc G. Auber

Wheeling, W. Va.
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