Poem Hunter
TS (03/24/1978 / Mass)


Poem By Tina Sena

She wakes me in the night.
Her face burned in my eye,
Like a cataract.
My arms go slack.
Who am I? And I am what?
She wakes me when I day dream.
She's a goddess.
A whirlwind.
A maven.
I'm not in love with her. No.
I'm not a part of her. No.
I want to be her. See her.
Know her. Be of her.
But someone said,
'God is dead.'
So, maybe she doesn't
exist at all.

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Comments (1)

Faith at the crossroads? intriguing piece.