helenneee

The world goes distant.

I can feel myself

slipping

dissipating

into the words,

the worlds

that I bring life to.

Somehow I feel 

betrayed, 

A world which 

Begins with the 

Click of the 

Day, with 

Every tick 

From the clock 

Going round, 

Hounding the day till 

I drag myself out,

“Harris is a communist,” My grandfather protests. 

“Better a communist than a felon,” My father shoots back. 

There is a swirl of color that accompanies all things. 

Every twist and turn, every fall and failure. All words spoken and sung, every smile or laugh. 

To commit atrocities 

In the name of love

Such monstrosities 

Causes steps of

A cautioned hush 

The presence of those returned 

Warriors- gentle brush