Here the clouds are great churches – Deborah Diggs

Judged harshly by my enemies, I say,
Let them cast the first stone.
I’ll know
the last judgement when my time comes;
with the clouds and seas as my proper
form of worship, along with the streams,
mountains, the trees and stones.

I never had to stay in the dark of my room
or stand in a corner. Life never punished me
until madness ran amok with my body,
my brain. i could have been Frida
struck by a bus, or Deborah falling,
jumping from the stadium’s heights.

Let them cast lots among the shadows like ghosts.
I know my place in the dark and the light.

 

As Leonard drifts closer to death, I thought that this was a fitting poem to post. It’s from his newest book, The Instrument of Others which has just been published by Lummox Press. It is the final poem.

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