23 March 2016



Their voices are black

and harsh as raven song 

They call me out of hiding

They call in my true name

but I cringe in an unholy place

and await their passing

I will not face them in the dark of night

nor confront them in the light of day

I fear their arrows unerring and practiced

After all they are my own children

The offspring of my every failing


No comments:

Post a Comment