Untitled

Finding me, the amnesiac,
at the graveside
is not common.

Today,
nostalgia is the succor-
of fun, of laughter, of joy,
of a place that I called my own.

The resident ghost,
invisible,
has a burden
in his own paradise.

Am I a friend
or an enemy?

He stares through the concrete
with chagrin.
Why does he have to come?”

Hope

Some call it,

light at the end of the tunnel.

Rock Garden

I try to understand

the heart of a rock

so mean

so cold

so tough

...

I try to understand

my heart for their gardens

so kind

so warm

so soft

...

I try to calm

the heart of every human

so brittle

so scared

so tired

Do Not Leave

My beg

to you

Almighty,

use whatever power

you have,

do not,

please

do not,

let her go

tonight.