Peter Rolny

(Fremont, California)

A Revelation

Poem by Peter Rolny

I see fuzzy shapes of verdant mass;
Trees, trunks, a decaying carcass,
Like inkblots at first but then a spire,
A city. Above it broods a fire,
A lion, a mouth, whose piercing glow
Transmutes the bark and leaves below,
As mists of saintly breaths arise
Whispering, lightning strikes the eyes.
I hear strange echoes in the land
Where many tribes and nations stand.
These bronzed oracles sing a name,
My name, my virgin name.
Their branching arms deliver hence
A touch of native innocence.

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Read poems about / on: innocence, city, fire, tree

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003

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