| Written by Fr. Pier Giorio di Cicco,
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Views : 906  |
I have learned to love the wood,
because it speaks
darkness, of things I can grapple with,
unlike the lies of humans.
Demons don’t lie well.
Angels are mum, unless disturbed.
The sound of a murderer is honest,
in the wood, alone.
I am a man who
wrestles himself
like a vain glory,
waiting for
for his God
to come.
I hide
so He will hunt me
and snap me like a stick.
God came to Earth
to put a claim
on me,
and
under stars I stand
and wait
to one day name Him.
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Fr. Pier Giorio Di Cicco |
| About the author: |
| Fr. Pier Giorgio DiCicco, a priest of the Archdiocese of Toronto, has authored 17 books of poetry. He was born in Italy, raised in Montreal, Boston and Toronto and has taught at the University of Toronto. He is currently Poet Laureate of the City of Toronto. His poetry is published by The Mansfield Press
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