Marc Wiegand

Sonnet 48
The Bells

You made me and you know I cannot pray. 
And if I could, what prayer would be enough
to bring ill-natured angels down to earth,
rescind the shallow sins I've sinned today?

You knew that I would break beneath my cares 
the day you made me from your fragile clay.
The troubles which you made were made for me,
which only grace that you withhold repairs.
 
What use is grace I cannot keep or catch
in the tattered nets you left upon the shore?
What little skill I have to take and grasp
your heavy instruments for my small task.

I have no salt to make unleavened bread, 
nor rope to ring the sullen bells of heaven.

Marc Wiegand has participated, almost unnoticed, at a number of universities, institutes and courses of study (some “self”), among these the University of Texas at Austin, and has made off with various certificates and diplomas, one in law. He has been, rather inexplicably, an Affiliate Fellow Resident in visual arts at The Civitella Ranieri Foundation in Umbria, Italy, and his poetry has appeared in Innisfree Poetry Journal, Blue Unicorn, The Penwood Review, Pulsebeat Poetry Journal, Westward Quarterly, and, shortly, The Journal of Undiscovered Poets (of which he is an exemplar). He is an international lawyer and exhibiting visual artist who lives and works in the Texas Hill Country.