Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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I, as Joseph, sold by his brothers
to live in a foreign land, wanderer
in exile, invisible in the scene, poet
of my poetry, surcease of sorrow
while crimson shades of apostasy
climb church walls, darkness falls
the sky in blood, the earth heaving
violence of winds and water, women
running in the streets, houses crumble
outside I roam, my center still without
a home, white shroud, death upon
the heath, bier before the bar, shore
of crossing, the stranger laid, from out
of me, wounded in the house of friends
this is how it ends.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
    October 21, 2010
    Over Costa Rica