The Sound Of birds in the morning church bells and ethereal choir voices
you forget you forget that words turn fire in the palm
pain & anger pierce the air & constrict the throat to suffer affliction . . . stock still
black stones in water deliver a guilty verdict & the wind blows heat dry sand in the eye
the vortex coughs spasms spitting psalms which falsely praise justice . . . standstill
the wailing window mocks ambiguously as water screams ashes
can tears wash away the hurt of timeless lost & tormented
trembling hands fumble for mercy