It is dark,, past the royal blue of evening
                              into the velvet black of night
                I walk across a vacant lot where bits of
                    Broken bottles glitter like fine gems
               so much shattered glass, scattered islands of weeds,
                            trash blowing here and there
                        this isn’t a friendly or a safe place
                     as I move along I think of violence that
                             has occurred here where I am
                 waiting now just below the quiet surface?
                          but this is part of my way home
                                   what am I doing here?
                     so far from the woods where I grew up
                       such a distance from my safe world,                        
                     I am not afraid, I don’t look behind me
                                   what happens, happens      
                                               here I am.