A Poem-Prayer for the First Sunday of Advent
December 1, 2013
In Christmas
December 17, 2013

Too dash, who dash through
the bounding quick of prickly prayer?
Like chalk marks on a jail side:
two Hails to go until my freedom there!
Confess it, press it out of you:
three sins, or maybe four, to square—
Not much—with God upstairs.
Then, my friend, your free-ness bear.

‘Tis all we need, we Christian crop—
Not contrition; don’t you dare!
We’ve got enough just miming clean;
let’s not be self-aware.



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