SEEKING SOLACE IN
A PURBLIND WORLD
I'm just looking for comfort but
that smudge in the finish, the thing
I keep seeing, the blur that my eye
cannot miss, continues to interfere
with my sight. If I were a medievalist,
I'd call it a vision to then be revered.
-
How ever did all that go : those hymnals
and prayerbooks, those people on knees,
those flagellants, propelling themselves
with the hot steam of their presumed guilt?
Then, when, and how? Black Death. The
pestilence, and plague.
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