recoiling like
some endangered species
the question is placed:
are these our old
who die so young?

are they to die so young
to rot in prison
be slain again and again?

does pigmentation
so permanent
stain a people's life?

the questions disturb.
how do i reply?
life is more than this.

is God cruel ...or we?



The children of God

"All are alive for God."
"They become like angels, no longer liable to Death".
"Children of the resurrection, they are children of God."

But I condemn, crucify, kill myself again and again.

I don't understand my Yes! my No! again.
It's as if three minds are co-deciding, contending, contending again.
No matter what path I pass, I return, taking the familiar, again,
the previously traveled, the known, re-framed, stained.
I seem blocked within some fixation asphyxiating me
with an urge to see, to gaze upon some object once seen again and again
viewing what's been viewed a thousand times before.
All seems to rise again and again to greet me.

What shall I do in this whirlwind of shattered oaths and abandoned Yes?
I click Delete in hopes of clearing history of wants away
of thoughts and returns again and again, struggling on the conversion-road
trudging in the mud hard and left, coaxed by some blind curiosity.

I condemn;  I crucify; I kill myself again
envious of the children of God
seemingly free from the shackles of Death.



When we're only letters on a scrap of paper, disposable sheets  in another's hand, we're as meaningless as a fart  to an elephant, an odor soon passing away.