My Prayer


Anna Tumbas



I loathe to have only modest morbidness,
such as disease and psychosis;
Within my death I could marry,
then you and I can die often.

Yet since the tomb breathed life,
it could satisfy my content.
But for fatality to build,
existence must obliterate the quiet life.

And so, upon this silence I wept;
Great Afterlife, lost to me.
A grave, not so large as ours,
but large enough for me.

A happiness provided Jehovah's necrosis,
the Devil slept,
grave termination sought out to ruin him;
he who prayed for its eradication, too.

I hexed the paradise with all my oblivion:
my evils I rid away.
The quiet angel wisped it up,
and Holiness faltered, too.