Poem: ‘And Not Your Garments’

And Not Your Garments

Lord, Lord this my heart full

of secrets, seeds I know
you did not send—Lord, I

cannot rend.

If I am choked, therefore,

by weeds,

I will not ask
for a mended garden, I

won’t beg your holy pardon
at scythe’s end.

These were difficult to bury,
so little loam left in me. You,

perfect,            alone
apprehend.

 

Feature Image: De intrige, (James Ensor, 1890); collection: Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten Antwerpen