even sacred space has room that's
not invasion proof - there's liberal
confirmation raids incurring greater
anguish now occur most every day;
from where I stand the pathway's
trampled smooth by errant feet
competing in unseemly haste to
dump their woes and beat retreat
they ask of me a counsel I abide in
wisdom of the ages scribed in gothic
script declaiming options lost by
overcrowding private life; yet to
tell them where to go is not the
kind advice they'd want to hear
© 29 August 2011, I. D. Carswell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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