Landscape Of A Soul

The gate yaws wide
torn from stanchions
protecting nothing
But all of worth is plundered
dust lies softly in marauder’s footprints
Chiseled from stone, jeweled eyes
Blade scratches mar the words that are left
erasing epitaph, history, name
Howling wind streaming through broken stone
gives voice to the soul defiled


© W.R.R. 6/17/1996

About W.R.R.

Bipolar & survivor of incest/child sex abuse and adult male rape; bisexual, polyamorist, poet/writer/advocate & married father of four. View all posts by W.R.R.

Comments are disabled.