My body as a Church
I dreamed
that
my body was a church
built from
half-healed wounds.
On the walls:
burned icons
of flesh,
and God
walked barefoot
among them,
leaving traces of light
in every nerve.
I prayed
not
to be healed:
for what meaning
has holiness
if it no longer hurts?
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
