The small girl child dreamt
Of flight through ink-stained starry
Nights and perfumed hills
The small girl child dreamt
Of flight through ink-stained starry
Nights and perfumed hills
The hard plastic chair creaked under his weight–who would find him?
The birds are too loud
Excitable voices sound
Like simpering fools
Food turned to ash in
The mouths of the innocent
As the old man spoke
The seconds ticked off
Though time felt still, her body
was electric then
Caught in a trap laid
By rough, lined hands, caked in dirt
It’s the last I see
Don’t know what’s happened
Am feeling lost in the crowd
No one hears my scream
Awake, but still down
Cannot find the answer here
What is to happen?
Thankfulness is to
Deny the ego and greet
The new dawn with grace
Cut short, feeling small
Lessons in humility
Should not be unlearnt.