Got ist das armste Ding, er steht ganz bloss und frei:
Drum sag ich recht und wohl, dass Armut göttlich sei.
Silesius
Alas, should I shed my robes?
Replace my sandals with the dirt beneath my feet?
Cast my last shekel before the town beggar?
What about the poverty of love, of happiness?
If these be considered, then I am the
Most divine wretch that never decorated a cross.
But…
Nonsense: when set against the
Skeletal frame of an infant
Roaming the streets of
Gaza, picking up pieces of mother and father,
Dreaming of one day seeing them whole again.
Umbriate Press Poetry 