I fell
or was pushed
from a seat
among angels
and landed
like an armful of kindling
in a place
where the footsteps
of my father
were deafening.

I broke
or was drowned
in a river
among men
and sank
like a pair of spectacles
in a current
where the hands
of my father
were baptizing.

I shouted
or was blamed
for the waste
of passions
and froze
like grass beneath the snow
in a wilderness
where the breath
of my father
was stilled.

I wept
or was buried
near the mountains
by devils
and dreamt
like the nets of fishermen
in the cradle
that the might
of my father
had toppled.

(take one goat of white
one of black
drive them over the cliff
with your sins


Filed under: Poetry, Psyche Comments Off
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