digital decoupage cwmartin 2012
there
are fears
woven into those
tightly braided strains
of hope
for this new day
strains
still moist
from
early morning tears
tears
that arrived
long
before the sun
could warm her face
a face
resting on a pillow
with noxious memories
of a stranger’s grasp
a cold hand
in the night
the unshaven face
against hers
a blade
against the throat
and then
only
the pain
now
the space
between words
is empty
promises
no longer echo
off the wall
of excuses
given for lifeless souls
lining the city streets
and rural valleys
your once prophetic stares
into the future
are no more than
a pathetic song from a mockingbird
willing to change its tune
for whomever
or whatever
serves its purposes
of self-interest
your worries
for the rights of others
were so damn touching
how you emoted
concern about
the brutal behavior
of foreign leaders
while at home
children go
without healthcare
elderly die hungry
homeless fathers
and mothers
struggle to feed
their children
yes
you are
so
damned
with
concern
