Stephan
I pray for you
So much in pain
May God release your chains
Just one step
yet going backwards

by Ravin

Awake
Dreams shatter with the coming of day,
We swim to the surface and scream,
My bed, soaked in sweat, tears, I look down, my thin naked form sprawled before me,
Confusion, this morning I am unclear,
A child is crying in the other room, my brother,
I try to sink back under the waves, to go back to the depths,
I am paralyzed, stuck,
Small dark forms lurk in the corners of the room,
Tiny voices whisper mangled words,
I am filled with fear today, I stand and lock the door,
On with the radio, music to block the babbling,
Beethoven, I float, back in bed,
Where am I? Who?
Thoughts tumble over one another and sink to the floor,
There I am, now on bent knees, I can hear the whispering,
Sleep...Sleep..no more,
She's at the door -knocking, screaming, picking the lock,
Shouting... Shouting... Exhortations... Get dressed... School... Worry...
I dress in a trance, picking my clothes from the piles on the floor,
Down the stairs (they speak in their creaking),
Eating, robotic ingestion, no more medicine today,
She calls me crazy, then says I'm sane,
In fact I am neither, I am just me.
The head is clearer now, I've got them under control,
I ignore the voices and their imagery,
Are you sick? No, I'm feeling fine (shut up, I tire of this nonsense, just take me to the factory and pour the words into my head),
Off I go to the small campus, off to success.

Anonymous

Poem #24 Copyright 1997
And for what was to be was uncommonly canny.

For if I told a tale of a thousand deaths,
Would it not be justifiably recognized as war?

And if strain gave way to a broken back,
Calloused hands would no longer lead the man from the heart.

A hero, a provider for us all.
A strength among many and so weak face to face.

And the single touch of a medicine man will carry me to bed.
And through his eyes, I long to be.

For I cannot touch an open wound,
I cannot feel its scab.

For mending together this past life,
Would scar the one that I have.

by Trece Wilcox