Category: Poem 4


Pieta by Nelia-Sol White   She Held him close, Loosely or both, In her lap, in her soul, Eyes wondering, Why?   He Was limp against her, Dead, dying, decaying, For humanity‚Äôs flaws, Face skyward, Eyes to the heavens.   They Were a monument To our sins, A reminder, A virgin and a martyr. Read more →