What Good is Spilling Blood?

What good is spilling blood?
It will not grow a thing.
What good is plucking feathers?
No harvest held a wing.

What good is sowing salt?
Seeds do not root for dares.
Most dangerous of all of course
Is to leave your soul quite bare.

A Protestant Alone in Mass

I sit in the back,
Not because I want to flee,
But because I'm less visible
When I don't stand up
To take communion.

To be honest,
I sit in awe the entire time.
The traditions and the beauty
Of the service wash over me
Each visit without fail.

Still there remains
The feeling that I don't belong,
Not here,
In this sacred ancient space.

I stay on the edges,
Looking in.

Cats may look on kings;
Yes all of us know that.
But who do you think
Was the first to say,
"A king cannot look on a cat?"

A drought of rain,
Broken by storms.

Poems lost that will not come,
Summoned by sleep.

A new month.
New chances.
Time for new sleep,
New tasks,
And eventually,
New classes.

Tired.
So tired.
With no energy
For writing.
How can this be?
I feel empty
Without poems.

The season is beautiful.
I'll miss the boys of summer
When autumn brings sunset.
For now,
I will enjoy the beauty
Of friendship and sights.