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From on high

I entreat you Holy Mother save me from the rocks that fall from the sky with church on top.

Their impacts are keeping me wide-eyed always awake sleepwalking on a rockslide falling from on high.

The stones are watching through his eyes and her eyes and always with your eyes, Mother, from the sky.


17th January 2012



→ Look at the photos that go with the poem.


© Anthony Thwaites