JeffMeyer

The pinprick of light above me,
after consideration,
is not a star:
rather, the light of day,
the mouth of a well
so high above
I cannot fathom
the fathoms to which I have fallen.

I cry my frustration
in this dry cellar
and write the echoes in
shaky lines of my own
watery blood.

A chill slides down my spine,
Cruel and cold
like the tears of a corpse,
mourning for a loss:

As the kitten paws
loose the end of the yarn
and soon the ball unwinds,
so I found a loophole
in heaven,
the rusty pins of faith
collapsed--
cathedrals of centuries
of governance by the blind,
congregations of sheep,
lupine papacy
and power-hungry bulls--

The walls crashed with the weight
of a breaking heart,
a weeping soul
which no longer lives in hope
of some life after death.

The stones of the walls of paradise
fell around me in this way:
close around my heart,
tight around my mind,
in a circle, narrow and tall,
some deep dry well

from which I can barely make out
the pinprick of sun,
the light of some truth
no one ever bothered to tell me
might exist.

ZonaJewel

A nicely rendered peice! A testament to hope following a dark night of the soul. Thank You!
Blessed Be,
Zj

mikeham

wonderful poem; like a lot of your imagery like 'rusty pins of faith';'lupine papacy'. last stanza is especially poignant, and perhaps just a touch hopeful