Rubble

i cannot count

how many times

you’ve built these walls

with just a breath

they crumble.

you have become

my tower

of confusion

and i am lost

within your rubble.

Our Love is Wounded

our love is a wounded soldier

painfully staggering

through lilies and thorns

through cutting rock

and perfumed meadows

every step, a loss and a gain

pour it in my hands
and i’ll know what it feels like

placed it on the tongue
and i’ll know what it tastes like

spray it in the air
and i’ll know what it smells like

pluck it on these strings
and i’ll know what it sounds like

a Teacher preaching peace
yeah, i know that it feels right

nail Him to a tree
and i’ll know that it looks like Love

All poems are copyrighted by Marquida Roberts.
To be reprinted only by permission of the author.