#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mute and withdrawn?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, 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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