#198 of 365 – “ramshackle slums”

 “ramshackle slums”


I am praying for change

don’t know what will come


don’t know where I’ll stand

when this day is all done


will I be with my shanties

that are falling apart,


lost in the ramshackle slums

of my heart?


will I find that my churches

have crumbled and gone,


with its prayers and angels

mute and withdrawn?


will I find myself scattered

like trash in the street,


strewn by cool breezes

decaying with heat?


what I hope is to be swept up

and laid on the steps


where my actions

might finally pay truth its respects.




About Blackbird

Poet, sculptor, jewelry maker, writer, spouse, parent, crazy person - not necessarily in that order.
This entry was posted in Depression, Poetry, Recovery and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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