Repeat After Me
A sad song screams it's
harmony softly, street corners
and derelict gutters echo
akin to orphaned children voices,
over the clatter of begging bowls
shattering. And even the yet unborn
may cry forlornly in
cold terminal passages
when the soup kitchen's fatherless
soul evaporates as steam on a
cold night's dreaming. And now, in regret,
in retrospect, with full womb
and hindsight heavy heart, I
hurl myself, parched of words, break
my arms upon a wheel,
catapult each prayer and hope
you still care. And whisper,
light as a ghost: "Bless
the earth beneath your feet
and calm the raging skies above you;
repeat after me, repeat after me,
I love you, I love you...
I love you...
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