untitled (1993)

Shells.....of humans.

Dead.....of soul.

Acting.....badly

In a badly acted play.

How.....could a child's bright and hopeful soul

Live through the grinding, crushing, shattering

Blows of soul-dead wardens

(Not caretakers, for you took no care for us, not really.

It was just another act in your badly acted play)?

Bright flames and glowing embers

Were shattered into sparks

Kept alive, glowing, hoping, but burning

Deep into tender-charred flesh

By a constant, whirling wind.....

A wind nearly spent so many times

But, seeking life's new energies,

Flared up again.

Is there a place or a time

For a spent wind to find rest,

Peace, hope, renewal?

I am spent, and I see none of these.

Instead, I see a gray deluge of pain

That threatens to quench

Those precious sparks and embers.

Is there hope

For blue sky and sunshine,

For an end to the downpour of pain?

Please, give me hope for peace.