Posted by: Ron DuBour | August 31, 2014

Words…


ann johnson-murphree

th

Words, words, words,

black, brown red, words

for which my tears have

shed. The living word

speaks truth, yet one

must die to have real

proof.

Our birth from death

is taught in the Holy

text, we will not truly

live until this sacrifice

has been met. The sky

will open the “Just”

will fly away, the

“Wicked” given a

second chance must

stay.

Words, are they truth

or a means for the pious

to lie, and for the answer

are you willing to die?

I want to believe, to hope,

to live life to its fullest

here on earth, and I

choose to live until

that final rebirth.

To taste the lush berries

down in the blackberry

thicket, to smell the wild

rose on the side of the hill,

to find a love that will not

let my heart be still. I want

to lie in a clover field

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