Sunday, March 08, 2009

Poetry Sunday: She Lives

Align Center
She Lives!

The misfit angel is going home,
all alone
she's left to roam.
Dry as the sackcloth that wiped her head,
as she bled;
left for dead.
Empty spirit gracing a plane,
mildly insane,
in the pouring rain.
Misfit angel bleed no more,
I found a cure,
your soul is pure.
Not forgotten,
body not rotten,
boldly you stood,
when you were downtrodden.
Here's my hand,
take a stand,
reach for me,
the promised land.
Embrace the Light,
through deepened sight,
wash away the tolling night.
Free at last the hour nigh,
breathe a sigh,
I will never, let your soul die!!!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...


I stopped by early Sunday morning to read your poem. :) As always, very soothing. It was my father's birthday. He turned 83 years young!

Nice way to begin my day.