Strip me of all
but the mark,
thumb crossing
on forehead,
that I might
let mingle
my spiraling soot
with His blessing
ashed. The burned
arm of palm
once so green
now tendered
free
of want
joins as one
the wind-tunneled trail
from which I came
and the long road
down which I travel
invoking darkness
seeking light:
I'm listening.
~Pablo Neruda
No comments:
Post a Comment