Muses
artists, writers, and poets
dissatisfied with life
our beauty hidden, concealed.
No eye sees our inner light
eclipsed by fear and ignorance
like clouds
that wrap the moon in disgrace.
Still, it glows, effervescent and insistent
outshining efforts
to strip us of our beauty.
We, asking too much of life,
its legs already bowed
its head bald, its breath labored
its strength waning.
An old dodger who cannot bite,
about to break.
Lifting a billion babes
yet saving not a one.
Hanging on his withered hand
pleading, take us away
from the cruelty of noise
and the violence of innocence dying.
The purest manifestation of love,
the last untouchable, unmolested child
is this hunger to become
an immortal star.
Click here: www.amazon.com/author/ninabingham
No comments:
Post a Comment