Your gift of sight penetrates my soul like a hidden knife in the darkness and with your judging green eyes make me feel naked and alive. Shamelessly I look at your emotionless face that has sleepless nights and worldly worries for makeup--- your yellow teeth and dry lips speak of the future. A future that you deliriously claim to be doomed: the quakes, the hurricanes, and the fires. In your brief visits from the sleep kingdom you wake up screaming “The Fires, the fires can’t forget those!” I hold you between my arms and I whisper prayers to the Father and the Son. Doctors and shamans have been unable to stop your shakes and blackouts. The Priests call it a blessing the press can’t stop knocking our doors our families turned their backs on us. The world turns and turns. Your prophesies begin to come true--- the world burns, the grounds shake, and the skies cry in agony, sinners beat their chest and ask for forgiveness. There is no salvation for us.
Short Stories, Poems, and Random Writing