Monday, April 09, 2007


In the midst of it all, I stood alone

In the laughter and the traffic of the day.

I could not bring myself to call the names,

Nor could I, be a martyr, to atone

For the sins which i supported in my Heart,

Those unnamed persons who have died for me

Like fish netted from the endless sea

Their blood is paint that makes my fragile Art

I wish this poem had the ring of salvation,

Because my


are numbered

as yours

But something better

Than the Bland

Protest of complacency

Should haunt our conscience.

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