ohm mitted

it seems to be so fitted
that i would be omitted
from times so good they had
why did they think me bad
did they not know that i cried
that is why i never tried

deep waters run still

i have taken a dip in the self pity pool
i try to void it, as a rule
but at times it catches me
and pulls me in
so hours i sit
lost in chagrin
to extricate oneself
from this mire
can be so hard
i so easily tire

precipice

the trick is to keep your edge

when you are one foot

off the ledge

serenity where

i think with some solemnity
about reaching serenity
the things i can
and cannot fix
its hard to sort out
in the mix
disheartened by
what will not repair
would be so much easier
if i did not care

until the window closes

i am letting air in until the window closes
feeling all of life's breath, with all its changing poses
want to feel the sensation hear the rustling sounds
do not want to be stale, that's for in the ground

woman alone in the movies

she had spent many afternoons by herself at the movies, her own prison asteroid. she sat, untouched, unnoticed, a face adrift in a sea of other faces...there were couples, families, children unaccompanied. people sitting without another. some even looked vaguely familiar.

as she walked home to the street where she used to live, she felt stingingly alone, it felt as if even the trees turned away from her. head downcast, she would walk up the path to the apartment building front door. it seemed that noone would be walking out, as she was walking in.

a few years passed. she went for the first time in what felt like ages to an afternoon at the movies. she had a sense of distant camaraderie with the solo movie going community, part of a larger planet, but her own continent. she looked at the other women who were alone in the theater. she was a part, not apart. she rose from her seat, proud.

she walked home, head held up. smiling.

do the children cry

do the children cry as they go out to play
in the ruins of their everyday
do the children cry as parents work in their fields
wondering if this years crops will yield
do the children cry as the monsoons rain
or the ground opens up
causing endless pain
do the children cry when the soldiers come
trying to kill all in their path
but sparing some
do the children cry when their stomachs do
will this hunger ever be through