Side Drawings Of A Monk Poem by Gert Strydom

He transcribes every word
with every stripe and line
like it belongs
and deep in the dark night
he writes on
and unseeing his eye falls
over walls
where the shades draw long lines

and his thoughts
takes their own direction
and for long moments
he looks at his own life
to know where
to trim things in place
or iron them out.

Somewhere in his soul
he longs for another place
away from the chilling dungeons
that the cloister locks in
and suddenly he wants out.

In his thoughts he sees a young woman
remembering from his childhood days
and her eyes radiates blue like the sky
and his heart bounces while a smile
folds softly around the corners of her mouth.

When his eyes catches the paper again
his thoughts says damn
but there’s no word
coming over his lips
and a big blot mark
next to the neat rows
of his writing
where he praises the virgin.