Wednesday, February 24, 2010


last night I dreamt of hope
fragile bird
and that dream, so easily confused
blocked out by murder, hatred, greed
flew off till it sat in a tree
waiting patiently for the din to quell
the horror to pass
what macabre visions we acclimate to!
birds wings and bones were never meant
to carry great weight
to harness horrors
their honeycomb densities,
quills and pinions were made for the wind
and yet this hope remains
updrafts pulling me from branches
spiralling up, away from the charnel slopes
away, away into glassy dome of freedom


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