UNDONE
I have known women
As beautiful as roses
Punctured by their own thorns
As if one day they looked
Into their mirrors and saw
Something ugly looking back
And they seek the advice
Of priests and psychiatrists
But receive the same answer
To believe in a faith
That speaks in a language
No one ever taught them
And as they grow older
They slowly disappear
In the arms of their shadows
As they wander the streets
Waiting for the wind
That will blow them away
INSIGHT
“There’s someone watching
Over us,” she said
“that’s not true
For everyone.”
And for a long time
I pondered her words
Until one day I saw
Their meaning
Two people on the street
A man in a suit
And a woman in
A thrift store coat
Where one bowed beneath
Some invisible weight
While the other sang
Softly to herself
ELDER
He stood before
The assembled crowd
Refusing to use
The microphone
And spoke his poems
In a quiet voice
As if he was
Talking to himself
And though he seemed
To have been touched
By a wisdom that
Was all his own
I tried to listen
And understand
But couldn’t hear
A word he said
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