How shall I know when I have arrived

worthy enough and on time?

The stones to the altar

almost impossible to climb.

When the white ibis slams the cliff

her velvet wings disappear.

The pages of the book in hand

origami themselves into mini-ibises

that carry the wind like kites.

When I jettison “betrayal” and “lost”

With new knowledge in hand

I swear I’ll be more kind.

Their words will no longer burn

my fingers and eyes.

I shall compose a rationale to explain

how the poem should spill its odd music.

Sing with broken syllables

In praise of a different divine.

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2 Responses to THE TEMPLE

  1. Thato says:

    Nice I really liked it

    • Krysia Jopek says:

      THank you so much, Thato : )
      Appreciate your read and all your hard work as my right-hand Poetry Editor for DIAPHANOUS
      Can’t wait to see your manuscropt of poetry!

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