Purgatory

Forty days and forty nights
Christ spent wandering in the desert 
but it’s now over ten times that, 
four hundred twenty days and 
counting in this isolation desert
cut off to varying degrees from
contact with other humans with
remote meetings getting more
remote and a takeout dinner
from a fancy restaurant is just
a takeout dinner, although live 
streaming music and plays
help a little but ain’t really 
all that live and I have a 
desperate nostalgia to return 
to what was my mundane 
existence before, while the 
days of our lifes trickle like 
water from a leaking faucet
as I as I sit on my back porch 
bench denied your touch 
as we are apart, suspended, 
between heaven and hell.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace