Chrishiggins Poetry

Heal me O' dear Jesus
For I do not want to go to heaven
God loves everyone
Yet the innocent die
And here we sit
Left to wonder why
We look upon our cities
With eyes of genocide
Shall we dance with the sands
O' mingle bye
Such pretty leaves
Our flickering cry
Hor of thy face
A reflection of rosey y's
Upon the moon lit sky
A cold breeze kisses my face
Smooth sounds fill my eye
Like the Velvet Queen
On her pretty side
A warm cradle of power is she
O' Holy Spirit
Holding stars up high

Poet: Chrishiggins