“… my sanctuary.”

By J. K. McDowell

June 2012

 

“Sanctuary in Night, Mystery & Light…”

I wonder if this can ever be true for someone.

I have to believe words are some sanctuary.

 

The bell tower sounds an alarm as the waters

Spill, overflowing from your two cupped hands.

They say raindrops and teardrops seek sanctuary.

 

I can be silent with you Love. The energies

Dance between us, even when we are not in sight

Of each other. Stillness – Soft – Souls – Sanctuary.

 

The poet closes his eyes and listens intently.

What did you tell me Salvatore, was it darkness?

No, Night is the poet’s sanctuary.

 

What half is wasted? No one knows. I will tell you

This Jim, among the greediness for money,

For things and for people, there is no sanctuary.

 

I have left the stone walls and the iron fences.

I have left the glowing screen and the qwerty keys.

The wind, the trees, the sun are my sanctuary.

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