LAST RITES by Susan P. Blevins

MART PRODUCTIONS

LAST RITES 

Night is the hunter of lonely souls

no place lonelier than shuttered city

in the small hours

 

Melancholy strains of Eric Satie seep out of

ill-fitting windows onto cold wet

city street

 

A sleepless soul sinking deeper

into hopelessness with each

despairing note

 

Homeless woman pauses to listen

shuffling feet interrupt their journey to

final destination

 

Jealously she drags her piece of hard-won

cardboard behind her, peering

over her shoulder

 

The soft sad music reminds her of days long gone

when she had roof and food and

warm clothes

 

Even a piano

 

All gone now, victim of a heartless political

system which beggared her with medical costs

when mortal illness struck

 

She lost it all to pay her bills

and now the cancer holds her in its

final death grip

 

She has a place she has come to like

and carefully lays out her cardboard bed

the last rites

 

She places her weary body on cold

wet city street and surrenders

her final possession

 

Last Rites was published in 2018 in Beakful.

 

© Susan P. Blevins 

Enjoy other posts by Susan P. Blevins HERE.

Susan P. Blevins 

Susan P. Blevins was born in England and subsequently spent all but the first twenty years of her life in Italy and the USA. She had a weekly column in an international newspaper while living in Rome, and now publishes her writing in various literary publications worldwide.

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TRUST by Susan P. Blevins

 

ICXOD

TRUST

Dreaming,

I stand upon the mountain

reaching high and dark into the sky.

Where to start my ascent?

 

Tentatively I set out, feeling small and fearful.

I look toward the distant peak

and see a huge figure straddling the mountain,

strong, secure, solid,

a giant.

 

He reaches down and scoops me up,

in an instant I am in his arms on the mountain peak.

He holds me to him, lovingly,

then stretches his huge arms,

holding me out like an offering, over the abyss,

and in the abyss is the whole world,

all peoples, all nations, all cities.

I feel no fear, only calm and total trust.

 

I understand that God Himself is holding me.

 

Ever since this dream I know no fear.

My trust in God is absolute.

Whatever happens, or will happen to me,

I know that I am safe,

cradled in the arms of divine love. 

Enjoy other posts by Susan P. Blevins HERE.

Susan P. Blevins 

Susan P. Blevins was born in England and subsequently spent all but the first twenty years of her life in Italy and the USA. She had a weekly column in an international newspaper while living in Rome, and now publishes her writing in various literary publications worldwide.

Follow Feed the Holy

BRIEF ETERNITY by Susan P. Blevins

 

ph.galtri

BRIEF ETERNITY

One day, long ago, on the shores of the Indian Ocean,

I entered the mystical garden where all is one,

losing all limitation of body,

all sensation of body,

all body

 

I was the swaying palm tree along the beach,

fronds waving in the sky that was also me,

birds flying into my crown and settling.

 

For a brief eternity

I glimpsed bliss,

bliss of belonging,

bliss of union with all,

bliss of freedom from boundaries

 

For just a moment I stepped

into this place that is no place, into

this time which is the crucible of all time

and dissolved into divine ecstasy

  

Enjoy other posts by Susan P. Blevins HERE.

Susan P. Blevins 

Susan P. Blevins was born in England and subsequently spent all but the first twenty years of her life in Italy and the USA. She had a weekly column in an international newspaper while living in Rome, and now publishes her writing in various literary publications worldwide.

Follow Feed the Holy