inner compass, guide me home
i'm lost in the dark, all alone
moral compass, calm my fears
make good choices, dry my tears
compass, compass, lead me forth
marching towards my heart's true north

h.f.m.

They douse themselves in gasoline
Light a match and watch you scream
Fatal protest of worldly injustice
Is life really all that precious?

Picket signs and flooded streets
Hide your head under the sheets
Block out the passionate shouts
No way in hell you're going out!

Hiding away from all this strife
Happiness is not worth your life
At least, that is your thought
But wait until the cruel get caught

Red-handed in word and deed
Ignoring your country's need
It is increasingly self-evident
You really need a new president

h.f.m.

'who are you?'
no one
i have no name
a label for strangers
deriving their preconceptions

to name is to define
is to put in a little package
and wrap up tight
to refuse change
remain the same

words are names
aren't they?
for concepts, ideas
for the perceived, the perceiving
hypocritical of me to use them

even absence has a name
specifying, narrowing, splicing
'silence' and 'abandonment'
'hunger' and 'fear'
if this is the case...

maybe i do have a name after all

h.f.m.

i wonder, at what age
you became out of my reach;
i wonder, if i even
tried reaching for you

i know that history leaves its mark on everyone
(but not many have been hurt by the tracks
left behind in the dirt
like you have)

you can sit there for days, weeks, months
while we contemplate your fate,
tossing the choices in our hands
like dice

you hear the word expendable
mumbled in countless conversations
and wonder, at what age
you became in our reach

you think of the family you left behind
and hope they will find their way to tennessee
to a better life that is  
quiet. peaceful.

will they miss your selflessness;
your keen, incisive way with words;
the bumps and hills of your rough skin;
the smell of your perfume?

i miss your evergreen smile;
your poetry;
your skin against mine;
the wonder in your eyes