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Parachutes
September 3, 2013
Plummeting
From up above.
Sinking
From the blue haven
Of gold-wingéd gods.
We fall-
Not like dominoes-
But unsystematically
Like plumes,
Or papier maché.
It does not want us.
And we struggle so hard
To deserve,
But it won't forgive.
It won't forgive...
And so we are ejected,
Forced to an
Unconsecrated land,
Where every foot
and every sin
Leaves a print behind.
© Hoang P., Rochester, NY
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