Found

A harbour I looked for, an abyss I found.

Love — an echo, a naked wound, a cold sound. 

The melody is gone, the chorus is a single voice,

the violins gather dust, the psalms all drowned.

Save the world and feed yourself with its famine.

The gravedigger’s grave is not dug in the ground.

Vengeance belongs to the Lord, victory to me. I let

no one look (unlike Him) at the thorns in my crown. 

If I live I will need to mother my bruises. If I smile —

repay another’s debt. Even in freedom, bound. 

Return me my rainstorm, give me back my rags. I confess

nothing. Not to a priest, a lover, hell or the hellhound.