Oh, so: pain or heaven?
Rain or baptism?
Cement mixer or Eden?

Dwarves burn
In the storm of life
Mouths glow red

None from here
None of you
One of us

Ghosts became heroes
In the ash-rain of misery
Risen for us

On ancient, cursed ground
Where the same ones always sit
Drinking tea of cold comfort

I wonder–

Will a world full of poets
Be happy
or sad.

Mysterious girl
the snowdrop child,
buried in spring, etched in stone
in a churchyard corner she sleeps alone,
many greedy winters have gobbled up her name
she was never an enigma
because we loved her just the same