Poetry sits 

I wish people knew that God doesn’t come to me and demand my focus, the idea of spiritual change is disheartening and difficult, and my heart sometimes thinks itself more religious than my brain. 

I wish for faith like the poor wish for coin and the hungry for grain. 

I wish they knew nothing is promised and we sweep each other to the side, and we write to fill the spaces left in the streets, and that poetry sits at the dining table with influence and insolence and images of what we see and what we wish to see.


One thought on “Poetry sits ”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s