Shrine Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka
Shrine
Spurned, dejected, rejected,
into a knot I close.
A rope I become
primed for hanging.
I choose my tree
with a sturdy branch,
high enough,
from whence I'll swing,
my feet
brushing the ground.
Then I'll
twist,
twirl,
sway,
the noose around my neck
keeping my breath away.
Crucified,
my soul shall flit away
and in the shrine
only a memento
of me
shall dwell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/2/2024 12:15:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
