When first light breaks, the drapes
guard themselves
like wounded children,
whispering
*There is no visible end
on which to latch.*
Hatred shares
a wall with me,
shares
a callous countenance,
shares
a small, collapsing tear.
*Much love to the one who wants it least;
they need it more than most.*
Like rosaries
chanted
in an empty church,
I sing an impression of hope.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC
When first light breaks, the drapes
guard themselves
like wounded children,
whispering
*There is no visible end
on which to latch.*
Hatred shares
a wall with me,
shares
a callous countenance,
shares
a small, collapsing tear.
*Much love to the one who wants it least;
they need it more than most.*
Like rosaries
chanted
in an empty church,
I sing an impression of hope.
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