I am vulnerable like an wounded animal
There is little mercy left for my injuries
Summer cannot be bothered with misery
Happiness and sunshine are too copious
Festivals of fireworks explode brilliantly
Illuminating the skies of North America
There is magic and love blowing sweetly
Whispers of forever coming from mouths
Kisses stolen and kept warm until winter
After many hearts have become volatile
Moments rarely last except in memories
Where they can be free to be celebrated
A country of their own love and trusting
The vastness recoiling into nothingness
One real truth is worth seasons of deceit
Absolution being granted by a wise man
Who will be remembered for his actions
Words fail even the greatest of speakers
Syllables cannot make up for our laxity
Rhyming cannot make up for our abuse
Music is our beautifully played apology
Until one more time and one more time
Eventually the tune sounds bitterly old
You must let go and not listen anymore
There are places where you can be free
Without yielding everything you claim
Finding them has gotten harder of late
Society has little patience for refugees
Trying to identify their own way home
When it does not seem like a necessity
The mind can often lose its own body
Explosions of thought singe tiny holes
Though every theory and its decisions
I could ever make concerning this life
Making doubt too copious for mercies.
02 July 2009

john...

your first line...
need i say more?

i may have to print this one,
fold it a few times
tuck it in a drawer
and break it out when i need reminding
of how reading a poem
should make me feel

amazing piece
(as per usual)

hope you're :)ing
Sarah