Diary of a Country Priest

Diary+of+a+Country+Priest+2

I must have fainted the first time
I hadn’t realized I was crying.
My voice trembled
that gives away a deeply wounded soul.
There’s nothing I can do.

To die is difficult.
for a word of compassion or kindness.
to shatter in my breast,
The memory of your harsh words
to which I’m well resigned

Now you’re as skinny as alley cats.
You neglect your health.
Hunched all day over boring needlework,
you have your whole life before you.
Young lady, I’ve very little time.

Could someone be rubbing her
What would it matter?
the wondrous young girl
Just like a hornet in a bottle.
beyond love’s reach.

I realized I’d lost a lot of blood.
and the murmur of voices
An awful night.
A lost secret.
I’ve been wrong about you.

God, I must write it down.
a bullet through his belly.
and the blackened logs
poured on an open wound.
on joy, that I had nothing to say.

I found myself suddenly incapable
those eyes of hers
They were like molten lead
I was so disappointed
Dog’s eyes.

It was raining so hard
and the water had turned red.
Little things don’t seem like much,
That strange tenderness?
Nothing miraculous about it.

It is good, that word ‘never.’
written on cheap paper,
”They’ll find me half dead, ”I thought.
Oh, miracle of our empty hands!
My arm was like lead

he laid his hands on mine
I’d have loved to tell him
Those are mere human words,
He is love itself.
he’d lost his faith

Dawn is always so sweet to me.
It’s smeared all over your face
The same solitude, same silence,
It’s like a flame that burns them.
Remember she’s leaving this evening.

She left me alone
to the unseen world.
The memory of our struggle
memory of one young child
like I needed air in my lungs

What if it had only been an illusion?
like a frog swallowing flies.
I knew she was withdrawn
My will was helpless
I entered her room for the last time.

I’m concerned about her sadness.
of a life actually lacking
I don’t believe in miracles
Candles are very expensive.
your other dream is to be loved

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