to the poets afflicted in the Word
cut to the quick of the living Word
we strive and crave the waters
crashing through the gates
though gashed by a guarded silence, well-enforced
by the heartless sinecured, forever on the prowl.
oh, laying the jewels and end to end this way
may we be blessed even without bread
with few friends or none at all
to find the music that departed Eden with us
magnified at last
in the full mirror of His shining
mary angela douglas 8 august 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem