i am one of many cultures
like an Eastern wolf
howling towards a
Western thought. at dawn
the Desert's light
emits from its own
Moon on the life
contained by lives
lied to by that which
held them down
for so long.
the covers come off
from her body.
a blanket of doves over cacti,
whispers of hope fall like feathers
from their wings to the ground
from which we stem straight up
towards God,
with peace He is.
an old balled plays
so out of place
like a bad movie
soundtrack preluding
the awkardness that
comes next.
but as they say,
only time will tell.
so instead of waiting
for hell to accompany you
on this Earth, live,
like she has, and will.
can you not?
copyright 2004 kristina lopez
