A want for destruction Held by A lack of faith In the oneself Wrapped in your Pious hope Choking on Identity indignation And the suffering

Author River Dixon
A want for destruction Held by A lack of faith In the oneself Wrapped in your Pious hope Choking on Identity indignation And the suffering
The glory of the passing Shared among the weak Claimed by the strong Hold it up with pride Bear witness to this Ignore as my
It’s strange sometimes The distance, space Around us How it gives way As we all move In different directions Here and there Back and forth
I have seen an old woman Sitting in a rocking chair The warmth of the desert sun Shining on her through the front window Surrounded
If you could see What I see In those moments when You’re most vulnerable You might recognize Through the haze Of your sadness There is
I may smile at you But it stops there I don’t have much To give you Some words Nothing much at all There are spaces