screaming confusion
By Shoosty 11/19/2001 In memory of Bertha Alter 1908-2001 The winds of time churn up the dust that we came from The dust is thick and I cannot see My sight is muddled with tears An angel has touched me for 10 years and I did not know it I have been in the presence of genius, pure mind power That walked slowly I am hurt I want to scream, to shout about the loss I want to reaffirm my life. Make new commitments and keep them To protect, to shield It is better to know less then to touch the shell of an angel Escape, Transcendence, Freedom It is a common disease. We all have it Mortality Give pause; reflect on the person at the store whom you don’t know They are buying groceries to feed other angels Pain, Anguish… uncomfortable trappings of the flawed science of medicine There is always hope Yet, it is inevitable The peace we seek is not peace it stirs up the rest of the angels They are not angels when they are together They are too baseless… to unfeeling An angel is always considered “one” When you speak of angels you speak of many “ones”, The reason is they don’t interact, just reflect love and kindness The reason does not matter The act of kindness they project is there glowing silence and flight It is an inspiration I am lost, confused, reawakened I love my family and friends. Work offers no challenge that cannot be overcome. Nothing compares to my grief Even miracles are mire shadows in the awe of the giver and taker Even miracles are speechless We seek harmony; it is strange that to seek harmony we preach vigilance and train for fighting Isometrics