Post by SweetSilverBird on Mar 18, 2011 15:44:28 GMT -6
Winter Wounds in Prison
by Deborah Neher
Oh Life! How could I know,
that I could burn
from bitter snow...
And wounded thus -
begin to know the very cold
that cripples me -
And makes me writhe incessantly?
Oh world! Be kind to me!
The burning frost is searing. See!
-the marks from every touch -
when I am brave and trust too much.
I cannot see.
your icy frost
has blinded me.
My hands are numb
from reaching out.
There is no fire to single out.
Distorted in the icy mirror
--of others eyes,
I learned to fear.
The roads, too slick to run away -
I keep time on the spot..... and stay.
by Deborah Neher
Oh Life! How could I know,
that I could burn
from bitter snow...
And wounded thus -
begin to know the very cold
that cripples me -
And makes me writhe incessantly?
Oh world! Be kind to me!
The burning frost is searing. See!
-the marks from every touch -
when I am brave and trust too much.
I cannot see.
your icy frost
has blinded me.
My hands are numb
from reaching out.
There is no fire to single out.
Distorted in the icy mirror
--of others eyes,
I learned to fear.
The roads, too slick to run away -
I keep time on the spot..... and stay.
