Monday, December 31, 2012



You look at me while standing there
Filled with nonsense, yes, and empty air
Asking what life cannot give
Unhappy you are just to live.
Shadows move & darkness gleams
Nothing is as it seems.
Pottery filled with varied earth
Incense rises from my hearth
Wild herb hanging from my beams
No, nothing is as it seems.
Words are said you can't make clear
Voices speak you cannot hear
Molding figures with the clay
What you hold dear most is what you'll pay.
I watch your eyes, you're not aware
I see you clearly, see you bared
Watching you, I try to gauge
The expressions ranging across your face.
Voices rise & voices lower
My voice echoes with the power
Your eyes widen, you turn to run
never again will you face the sun.
Across the room you're pulled to me
Open your mouth as if to speak
I open mine, I taste your soul
And now we both have reached our goal.
It's over now, I reach to you
See you lay there cold & blue
I smile to think of what you wished--
Death is what life cannot give.
     --Shayla Kwiatkowski, 1986

This was published in some anthology, probably around 1986. Details are lost in the past.

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