Sunday, June 17, 2012

Seven days in the desert

The silence consumes me
Except for the whisper of wind
This all or nothing existence
As stark as unrelenting sunlight
Blistering me for saying
In the wrong place how I feel
Nefertiti banning me
And my existence
For questioning the nature of things
Condemned to exile
Seven days in the not so silent desert
To live among the slithering things
As if I was one, too,
As if I had done things so bad
I should get
down on my belly
to crawl over sand and stone
until I rub myself raw,
my throat parched from silent screaming
so that I may never speak again
I envy Christ
For surviving 40 days like this,
But he was a god,
I’m not even a saint.

No comments:

Post a Comment