Idol Poem by Tina Sena
Idol
She wakes me in the night.
Her face burned in my eye,
Like a cataract.
My arms go slack.
Who am I? And I am what?
She wakes me when I day dream.
She's a goddess.
A whirlwind.
A maven.
I'm not in love with her. No.
I'm not a part of her. No.
I want to be her. See her.
Know her. Be of her.
But someone said,
'God is dead.'
So, maybe she doesn't
exist at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 2:16:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Faith at the crossroads? intriguing piece.