Mountain Sanctuaries

Poem By Hugh Joseph Curran

MOUNTAIN SANCTUARIES

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus,
is the cry that echoes in mountain
sanctuaries,
where skulls are thronged
by immersion in the eternal requiem:
aeternam dona eis, domine.

Inspired by the prophets,
we dispersed multitudes
with canons of faith,
uncovered revelations
and mysteries on a strand
of apocalyptic vision;

Bound by thanatos,
the cadavers of the past
were bitten by the worm
of abstinence,
angelic messengers
asking us to feed the lambs,
feed the sheep;

Yet our cloisters were steeped
in a claustrophobia
of flesh-eating words,
abscesses weeping
into a world wasting away.

Comments about Mountain Sanctuaries

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of CURRAN

Dead Stone

DEAD STONE

There is no sound like a dead
stone falling into

Being & Nothing

BEING & NOTHING

We strive for the essence
of non-being, believing it

Maru, Of The Dead

MARU, OF THE DEAD
Maru, it is of the dead we speak,
the dead leaving their own tales:
a stone dropped into a well,

The Four Horsemen

Four Horsemen
He flexed his shoulders, his apocalyptic tattoos flickering
in the locker-room, the skulls rearing with horses on his muscled

Locker Room

LOCKER ROOM
Undressing in the locker room, his hair spiked, his speckled eyes
conflicted, his tongue emitting barely articulate sounds as he burst