Paula's Poems
by Paula Puddephatt
This sense of inner calm is the secret music of every faith. Why, in a blaze of angry language, does none of this logic ever quite make sense, as it seems to now?
This sense of inner calm
is the secret music
of every faith.
Why, in a blaze of angry language,
does none of this logic
ever quite
make sense,
as it seems to now?