Poem: America


Tired eyes raise to the golden walls

Their grey tears mirrored by the savior’s eyes

The hard brown pews bring infinite comfort

To the lost innocents who preside here in the red city.


Here, in the dense black rooms

Death awaits in shades of black brighter than yesterday’s fire

Yet a blue flame, in contrast, burns bright in their hearts

Its embers crackling with a song of freedom.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s