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Gold
by Indigo TempestaThis is when we learn
For what milk we’ve read,
For what bread we’ve held
Our silence.
To blood
Christ upon Christ
In service
to sustenance,
Love and progeny and right
and all that,
This may be worth.
It is finally our assent
When we cede,
then,
That is living wood
Hewn with a rough edge
Atop a warm hill. 05/17/2007 Posted on 05/17/2007
Copyright © 2024 Indigo Tempesta
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by John Nivel on 05/19/07 at 01:38 PM Reads to me like Emily D_ickenson. Too abstruse for my simple tastes. Naturally, my tastes are a non-sequitor. |
| Posted by Erin Eymard on 04/07/08 at 09:54 PM All I can say is "Wow." Very nicely done. Very intricate. |
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