by Ryan Nardi
Am I such an island in the sea of everything
on an island in the sea of everything?
When I'm eating sand,
sitting where I stand,
are my tears unlike those in Gethsemane?
Am I not unshod and wandering
on a plot and in a plot bound for a plot beside a tree?
Was there no worth
but only staining in my birth?
Is Christ no more a son of God than me?
If absence of sin is just license to throw a stone,
then shall the redeemed promptly begin to through their stones?
May I break before a lake
and cry a river for my own sake?
And can I give up if I really am alone?
Is it foolish not to want to go
even though I don't know wither to?
And against the dying of the light
may I rage and beg and fight,
although the light goes on with me or no?
Posted on 11/03/2009
Copyright © 2023 Ryan Nardi