Sunday, November 1, 2009

Holy Soul

Weep if you can.
Mourn if you will,
but pray,

Pray for me
for I will be gone
to fight my demons
one last time.

To do the work
I would not do
on earth.

I cowered in fear
from my own imperfections,
preferring instead
to hold them to myself
like a tattered blanket
soiled and torn;
useless yet oddly comforting.

I will not be able to
pray for myself

and yet I will know.

I will know
to the core of my being that
I am not worthy
to come under His roof.

I will know
like a thirsting man
yearns for water
that I need God.

The illustration for this poem is All Soul's Day by William Bouguereau. To purchase this picture, and see others by Bouguereau, visit the Art Renewal Center.


TACParent said...

That is heavy. Nicely written.

Dymphna said...


Poems © Gemma W. Wilson