THE EPIPHANY
Galaburda Cyril
Don’t you palm me off that water
You had carried from the Church,
Your create me from disorder
Made me feeling sad too much.
I did not feel with my “mummy”,
Didn’t join to your joy
All for going to bad timely
And to be again your toy.
Drag yourself to Heaven’s bosom
If you want. But not with me.
Was you scared that water’s poison
That would be the daemon’s whip?
It wasn’t nicely being frozen
To get mother’s holy spit
And to get my mother’s crossing
In saint number three she did.
There was weed in peasant habit
With the ears she’d fetched at home.
And she asked me: “What did happened?
Where’s the faith that once you showed?”
1/20/2010