Finger On The Pulse Poem by Matt Render
Finger On The Pulse
With my finger on the pulse
Of holy invocations
I hear the hoarse cries
And embittered shouts
And harrowing sighs
Of all that's ever been
And will ever be
One million blackened hands
Are reaching out in my direction
Their dirty
Jagged nails
Pierce my frail skin
And every now and then
I hear that old refrain
Reminding me of my sin
And to never love again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/19/2024 10:56:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
