Wednesday, December 14, 2005


This appeared in Pegasus.

Beneath the mist, beneath the dirt,
Under it all, she does not hurt.
She lies in unacknowledged state.
This is supposed to compensate
For all the pain. She never cries,
We say. At last she will not rise.
Thank God we know enough to be
Deprived of possibility.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I really fealt this poem to be really sad. I enjoyed it it rymed very well and I even used it in one of my school projects. Thank You!