Sunday, April 6

Harpy

To put the touches on something beautiful
End it with a stroke unlike
The black innards of the earth that so many
Hopefuls and wishfuls howl
From the wounds on their faces
Day after day, to end it after all
With beauty, magical
Was my charge in this forsaken place

Now I'm at chemical oblivion
To end it at a stroke would be the crowning
Mark of failure of every ancestor who gave
Me her DNA. Life is unlivable
And it stays that way. Year after year,
We hope, we do what we can
But day after day we are crushed beneath
Our own two feet again.


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