Poems
Architect
In the Heavens
an Angel sits
angrily sharpening
ice into bits
It is God
who set me on this task
to sculpt my frozen heart
so others upon it may bask
“Look at them down there
they think they are so smart
melting my perfect sculptures
with their warm imperfect hearts.
I send the land to slumber
and blanket it with snow
then they flap upon it
and mock my image so.
When the ice runs dry
they will learn
for the sky will fog
and their skin will burn.”
I need finer instruments
to orchestrate my design
to dissect intricate filaments
transform me - ornately divine
With a surgeon’s skill
I’ve carved all season long
what will we do
when I am gone?
February 7, 2011 - Laura Greenbacker
http://kalsia.tumblr.com/
In the Heavens
an Angel sits
angrily sharpening
ice into bits
It is God
who set me on this task
to sculpt my frozen heart
so others upon it may bask
“Look at them down there
they think they are so smart
melting my perfect sculptures
with their warm imperfect hearts.
I send the land to slumber
and blanket it with snow
then they flap upon it
and mock my image so.
When the ice runs dry
they will learn
for the sky will fog
and their skin will burn.”
I need finer instruments
to orchestrate my design
to dissect intricate filaments
transform me - ornately divine
With a surgeon’s skill
I’ve carved all season long
what will we do
when I am gone?
February 7, 2011 - Laura Greenbacker
http://kalsia.tumblr.com/