Paradoxical Medium
While death’s forgotten ones twist inside me,
angels, saints and masters guide me.
Darkness dies within imploding
no sense in nonsense, so foreboding.
Why must one so light as I
angel on earth –
be tortured, forced to rage and cry
the tears uncried
by souls left
to abide
death’s weary passing
with no other guide?
©2005 Ann Albers | Please do not reproduce without written permission
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