Thursday, December 18, 2014

I walked from the church

I walked from the church
to the street, the war zone,
the cold, the fear, the despair
of darkness, of the street.

The wounded and dying
reached toward me,
the sick clutching
at my ankles, weeping.

I walked from the church,
the light wasn't following
the light was leading
shining in the darkness.

I walked from the church
into the street, seeing
the ruins around me,
and knelt.

Photograph by Lilla Frerichs via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

1 comment:

Frank C. Etier said...

War seems to be a permanent fixture in our lives.
Your poem is a classic, as it fits any and every war--even the wars we fight within ourselves.
Well done!