Er At Shands
In there eyes,littering the place
Like trash, I see the direlects, trace
The broken shards of faith scattered
Across lobby, waiting out the futility
Of their unmiracled lives. Stuttered
Hope looks at me, another disability
Coming to this Siloam where no angel fly.
Money buys no life, but without it we die
In the very presence of the medicine in
These emergency rooms carcassed with sin.
Dying to get well
We live between the pain of death
And the despair of hell.
The wait, undurable, spawns sunset
to sunset and chasm between. The eyes
Closed, resigned to the fate that denies
Man a creed
That life against all odds must succeed.
Copyright © L'Nass Shango | Year Posted 2012
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