Make
What can I make of the black dirt, upon men's faces
and of their words ~ rock salt, becoming rust
~ what can I make of their derailment, their unjust
outspokenness, as even lust
determining their origin ~ adjust!
To this contain; I bust
~ wide open
with my own hard words,
and thought's accost.
What can I make of life, my own invest,
as eyes are open to arrest,
of difficulty, to a test
What can I make of time, that teaches me unrest ~
And so, I make a rhyme
and pray, that you find blessed
some making of divine,
unshaken crest.
What can I make of ~ why I am,
without a thee to nest!
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