The Moya View

The New Flood: A Poem

Only snakes never cry when the old skin dies and falls away

So cry, cry until the pain, the anger and all the misery is shed

In the baptism—

–

Cry until there is nothing left but hope and love,

Because they are anchored in the heart and soul

And thus beyond the flood.

–

When the water recedes and the vision clears

HE will be there—

And just a little further behind

So will I.


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