A Draw-Well Poem by Liza Sud
A Draw-Well
Spit into my soul, my friends -
I don't know insults.
How can I cry
After so many Sacraments?
What I would really like
Is to show you this happiness -
After acceptance of His
Infinite love.
Spit into my soul-
And I will embrace you with arms.
Poor - you used
To spit in yourselves, dear.
But it is God who will wipe
It overnight.
How much in my soul you spit -
There water is by miracle cleaner.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/13/2024 3:44:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
