Karla Blom

July 28, 2005 - Cape Town
Send Message

Cold hands

My church Remains fragmented,
reflecting beyond the room, slumbering within my flesh
My God
rivulets of my worship forge down my heated skin
Dripping,
falling,
onto your subjects below

Holy Nothings answered in cloaks of darkness,
with tears and
sweet
Absolution, you guide me to your alter

With steady hands,
the cries of my Forgiveness ring

And I alone,
Am left.

Marked with scripture,
Surrounded by Sin
136 Total read