God forbid that I should worship
Temporal gods of clay and rust
Gathering in my groping visage
Treasure-chests of painted dust
God forbid that I should journey
From the cradle to the grave
Only then to find in horror
They are powerless to save
God forbid that I should hunger
In the wantonness of things
Choosing never to discover
Heaven’s sacred offerings
God forbid, as centuries trickle
Through the clouds above a stone
That I should thus remain forever
Bound by gods without a throne
© Janet Martin
2 comments:
I've been to this porch before!
This is a solemn reminder - your poem. Powerful.
And I love the photograph. I've always been drawn to cemeteries. More so - to the neglected, forgotten tombstones. So much to think about there. And the birch trees are so lovely. I miss them so much!
Thank-you Sasha. Yes, I too found I contemplate old forgotten grave-sites...so much buried history!
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