Today's poem is by Philip Fried

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A man or a woman, afraid with any sudden
chance of fire or of man’s death is driven
to cry or to pray after help. Yea, how?

Surely, not in many words, nor yet
in one word of two syllables. And therefore
he cryeth a little word: as “fire” or “out!”

For in ghostliness all is one, height and deepness,
And rather it pierceth my “ears” than any
long psalter unmindfully mumbled in the teeth.

Then feel sin a lump, thou wottest never what,
but only thyself. And cry then ghostly
ever on one: “a Sin, sin, sin! Out, out, out!”

Copyright © 2011 Philip Fried All rights reserved
from Early / Late: New & Selected Poems
Salmon Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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