I love words and dig poetry slams. I've been writing poetry since I was about 5 years old and my mother tells everyone I was born with a pen in my hand. I am a project manager by profession and reside in Utah with my handsome husband and our two outstanding children. You can read more of my work and follow my poetry adventures here: http://trishhopkinson.com/.
Christ of the Abyss
They found a clay mold of you, but your arms had gone missing.
You too had lost a hand, knocked off by a boat’s anchor.
They pulled you up out of the bay to repair the bronze stump,
severed where the wrist and hand once stretched to the surface.
You stare blankly, beyond the mirrored blue, your arms reaching out
as if you’re letting something go, as if it’s gotten away from you.
Your colorless eyes reflect the emptiness, the longing for heaven.
Your feet permanently affixed to a plate, mounted to concrete.
Divers find their way to you, for love of the sea, for love of your story.
Inspired by: http://www.christoftheabyss.net/
©2015 Trish Hopkinson