Sonnet

[arisbe]

Bab El, the Gate of God, fallen indeed,
The common tongue remembered, speaking of
Ancient forgotten mysteries, our creed.
Words come to their senses, even love.

I turn away from the cremation ground
That burns from summer's end to winter's start,
And walk, perplexed and soulsick all around
The cityscapes in which I lose my heart.

We build again, more humanly this time,
And mindful of the holy ground we tread.
I raise my little towers out of rhyme
Fearful lest something might be left unsaid.

For death, that took these quick, still waits for me
And I must earn my freedom to be free.

---

© 2002 FP Purcell

Comments

question..

[seraphimsigrist.livejournal.com]

I like it and glad to see it in print as hope
to see your poems more fully in print some
day, but I am not sure the first thought
of line one flows easily into the second of
the folloing line where I suppose a centrifugal
force is working... no suggestion really
unless it be 'and yet' for indeed...
and I may be way off the mark anyway
on this.
+Seraphim.