The Aging Prophetess (poem by me)

His words echo through the mouthpiece.
His voice squeaks like a tot,
but she knows he’s a robust young man.
Isn’t he? 
Is she confused again?
What day is it? What time? What day again?
Bodies move in slow motion.
They did not used to be that way.
Things were different,
More beautiful, spun on the loom,
and quilted with indifference.
That’s why it’s better now,
Or is she peering into the future again?
She gets so confused.

*Consider agreeing with the prayers in this free ebook for the nations of the world. Check it out:  Beseeching Grace: An International Prayer Collection.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s