AT LEAST NOT LIVE
blow after blow
after blow rains down,
we are pummeled,
beaten down, ruined,
and then the world
demands again
asking why we linger
there upon the ground
so damaged here,
so stripped of time,
we can not build
what's been destroyed,
we can't repair
the shattered parts,
we have no means
to make us well
and yet the voice
of cruel insistence
calls us to task
for all our woes
as though these wounds
were not apparent
and that we had
all what once was
we have no faith
in these tomorrows,
no hope that they
would bring us light;
we've seen too much
of devastation
to expect of futures
a sudden change
how much we'd like
to be excused,
sent home unwhole
with purple hearts,
but this world ensuress
we'll never see
that realm again
at least not live
- Brendan Tripp
10/10/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp
