my fingers are useless gnarled talons

they curl cramped and clumsy

gripping pen like a deadwood perch, yet

this caged bird has no song

it would be better to throw it aside

loosen my grip, to bruised knees

let fall this futile pursuit, bare these

starving claws like daggers, with them

scratch meaning deep into dry earth

and then sobbing, slash and scrawl

scrape hieroglyphics into granite, and

with bleeding fingers I would paint

tears streaming, I would paint a future

with my blood and my hands I would paint

a future my heart can never speak of

03/14/2003

Posted on 12/01/2017
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