#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mute and withdrawn?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.

 

 

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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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