In limbo-
our broken hearts,
confused minds
and parched spirits.
Offended,
at the notion
of God’s goodness.
Absent, in our hour of need?
Like robots,
we continue
with our empty practices.
Mute, our hearts and minds.
Too crushed
to ask ‘why’?
Dull minds,
staring at empty spaces.
A salmon dawn
arising over an empty altar,
awaiting its sacrifice.
Come lay down your silent screams.
His fire will consume;
mere ashes remain.
More death, it seems.
Except: He authors life only.
10 February 2018
(© Pia Horan-Gross)
From My Best Poems, Spirituality, Vol. II
(As yet, unpublished)