I’ve burned incense in the churches
and I’ve washed with cleansing lye.
I don’t want to smell like birches
or go lay where lilies lie.
I only wish to have again the scent
of her, from days now spent.
Tag: art
Rinsing…
Living 1,000 Lives
It’s been a long day
At night,
The hard residues of life
Hardly washed away.
Rashless
I’m found again
lost in antiquity.
Attachments made
and broke by ill intention?
That of old
now modern iniquity.
For reasons
much “too complicated”
to mention.
Home
Take me to the old dirts
just outside of Rome.
Allured by the Smoke
Escaping Ash.
I’m longing for
my heritage, for home.
The old gardens,
Is that warmth
too much to ask?
Death and Laughter
The hot sun sits
unsated on our skin,
My desert rose,
just one or two steps more.
In land of sand and sea,
there’s loving.
There’s living
in the name
of myrth and myrrh.
the fragrance writer 