October Poems 2024 >> to sate sweet sin-sick souls

A poem for each day of the month in which I was born  
 
DAY 20  
to sate sweet sin-sick souls  
 
her grave is not her final resting-place,  
though clamorous the strain to say goodbye,  
life's evidence, shell-shocked without a trace,  
where soon this wicked death itself must die.  
 
and has the silence eaten up her zeal?  
of non-effect rendered her sex appeal?  
where once she kissed, how now unpuckered lips!  
and rigor mortis, where once bloomed lithe hips!  
 
does she remember wild october days  
with fire crackers cracking in the nights,  
when chocolate flavours wafted, in a blaze,  
dread burnt savannah palates with delights?  
 
five dumplings and two fishes, like the lad's  
that fed the multitude on hungry mount,  
miss icy cleft the warmth of gilead  
to sate sweet sin-sick souls she could not count.  
 
i weep upon her casket in the rain,  
where God alone can fathom all my pain;  
high heaven overflows with all my grief,  
whose cooling drops anaesthetise death's sheaf.  
 
her grave is not her final resting-place,  
though her composure wither in the dust:  
life's brief sleep shall God’s image not efface,  
whose frame will rise immortal in its place.  
 
© Copyright 2024 October 20  
by Clyve A. Bowen♫