Holy Land Dream
Ancient stone and mortar,
walls crumbling with careless time,
the sun in the sky
somehow looks older here,
and the moon,
seemingly always full,
shines brighter.
I can feel an energy
like sweet incense,
easing my soul.
I close my eyes
and feel his touch,
I feel his oils drip
and slide down
the side of my face,
mixed with sweat
and tears of joy,
I am anointed.
All my troubles abate,
I am free,
I have, at last
truly reached
The Holy Land.
Alas, all too soon
I am awakened,
By very real street noise.
I am in the same bed I rise from
Every day,
I see the same
old drab walls,
and hear the same old
rattling radiator,
nothing has changed
except the hole within me
has been filled.
Copyright © Ian Kilfoil | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment