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My Little Back Porch Room

There was a window of atonement on one of my bedroom walls, Three a-row, considering first or last; this special view sat rightly low. No door between allowed for me sanctuary or retreat As tears of dread or guilt or fear dried into heaving sobs; I cleansed my wicked, willful childhood soul. Not at the headboard, where pictured above my bed; -- Christ guarded obedient children there. But, at the footboard pushed up against the other wall, With an alley view below. Just low enough to compel me to kneel, Positioned perfectly, To view the world awaiting, Full of rats and grasping gypsies, hidden among the garbage cans in rows. Unenlightened, imperfect contrition, fearfully I prayed, As I stared beyond the weed filled fields - toward scary buildings off a ways. Thoughts calmed and strayed to dreams of another life, Of fantasy, companions, and love with understanding: As grief and fatigue slowly took my eyes. I laid down upon my pillow, gazing last at the promised guard, Hoping I might someday be righteous enough to earn protection too. I asked the Lord to protect all that I loved: and nightly save my soul, For surely hell has no fury greater Than my little back porch cell.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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