Sunday, February 5, 2023

Hidden hills

Words that stream here
clean themselves alone.
They clean all of the dust
they send dark spirits home.
Words I meet here
appear on their own
to discern guns from bread
to disarm cold war.

I assure you
they always win
even when I lose
they reach the hidden hills
higher than my hopes
wider than my faith
until there's no bullet left
till they all ricochet. 

If still wondering how
a snake should lose its skin
just let the words reach out for you
such skin shall not be healed. 



Saint Agatha of Sicily