By: Anne Christine Tabaka | Posted on: March 2018
There is no black and white
anymore. Everything is gray
as I wade through Indecision.
I do not remember how to pray.
My knees now fail to bend.
Desperate hands forget how to fold.
The words no longer form in
my effete heart, nor do they
pour forth from my mute mouth.
Emptiness reaching out, searching
beyond a sacred scripture, for a
faith larger than taught words.
Malignant desires, like invasive
vines, overtopping the forest,
choking out all natural beauty.
Frenetic lives cluttered with
belongings, void of any true value.
Broken beings in need of healing.
An urge to be filled. A question
to be answered. A new spiritual
awakening rising from within.
Broken no more.
Ann Christine Tabaka is a nominee for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She lives in Delaware, USA. She is a published poet and artist. She loves gardening and cooking. Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her most recent credits are Page & Spine, The Paragon Journal, The Literary Hatchet, The Stray Branch, Trigger Fish Critical Review; Foliate Oak Review, The Metaworker, Raven Cage Ezine, RavensPerch, Anapest Journal, Mused, Apricity Magazine, Longshot Island, The Write Launch, The Stray Branch, Advaitam Speaks Literary Journal, Ann Arbor Review.