Evening Prayer
I am a tree today
to roots,
to heaven.
The mower passed the sickle
like a moon.
What was unnecessary – cut off.
The remains were burnt,
to be clean
as in a picture of Chagall.
Pray for the dead innocent
and for children.
Evening.
Copyright © Bozhidar Pangelov | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment