What about the boy with no god?


He doesn’t have time

so he doesn’t pray.

He does not sing.

Still and silent he lays.


When he’s no tears to cry.

And his heart’s lost it’s home.

A cold wind’s a-blowing

more than he’ll ever know.


And outside

his window of vision.

The boy with no god,

sees a grass green reflection.


Who’s your buddha?

The birdwatcher watches the sky.

Her name was Jesus.

And the leper gets high.


The dreamers are dreaming.

Pilgrims walk down the road.

Hands up to the sun,

The poet recites an ode.

What about the boy with no god?

A poem by Sawyer Phillips

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: