The Warring Curses
We stood atop God's hill
among God's hills
and saw no mountains
where mountains are not seen,
but gazed hatefully, fearfully, longingly
into Satan's valley.
Ours was the grandest little hill,
and below was the wickedest valley,
and between was the contest of angels dark and fair
where the living is not easy
and the dying is not quick.
At once we knew both
all that there was to be known
and nothing that could be known.
Once born, twice seduced, yet more,
we dared to peer sideways and downward
and morbidly at the edge of the plague.
And weary, or indifferent,
some were claimed,
vanished into the core of the depraved,
where the dying is not easy
for the killing is not quick.
The warring curses were one.
6th July 2018
Copyright © Lawrence Sharp | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment