She absently plays
with the stitches across
her lips.
Her eyes
have more sky
than sky.
Laughter like wind chimes
she holds out her hands
to collect the rain
hides all her light
where nobody is allowed
and I’ve walked past her a million times
a million times.
It’s hard to see the stars
from the gallows
or a smile through tears.
It’s hard to see rot beneath beauty
hope beneath shame
love beneath all that hate.
It’s hard to see change at the end of a gun
peace through the flames
or God through all that pain.
It’s hard not to bury
not to burn
not to break
because it’s hard to see the way.
And it gets harder to see
every day.
I saw a little white fluffy cloud
solely drifting across
the vast blue dome
of an otherwise perfectly clear day.
With the way that things have been going
lately
I hoped that it would get to where
it was heading
without getting bombed
all to shit
out of the sky.
hernanjmonzon.com 