Christine Busta Poems

With the last of my strength
I throw myself into a sleep;
only the breath of the eternal Creator
can wake me again.
...

The purest form of human intelligence
is goodness.
To your very end you'll need
all your foolishness and resistance
against so-called reason.
...

Those baptised with water
will have it lighter
than those baptised with sand.
...

I have inherited my mother's
walking stick.
Her life was harder than mine,
and yet she needed it
...