Writing
Is my fighting

And writing
Is my hunger

I try to find
The words

And recover
My mind younger

The agony abides
The silence does as well

The sacred often hides
Ain't no tongue can tell


                    Be well!

The sun kissed her face
And left a glow there

She was golden,
but the bruises on her body
became her biggest burden
and shame-

and yet she shone on.

My heart broke
That she never dared,
wonder beyond

his shadow.

midnight 'til morning
waiting for a reply.
to hear that faint ring--
oh, what a lullaby.