THE BURN OF YOUTH
I stand tall
like the charred silhouette
of a tree that has lasted
through fire, and
I long for the burn of youth.
WEALTH
Do I dance
or do I sleep?
A BRIEF HISTORY OF SUFFERING
We want love. We notice suffering
evokes it. We are willing to pay
the price. We don’t notice when
we derail. We think we are very
clever. We compete with pain and later
cannot figure out what happened.
BLIND SUN
Slaughter fields and women
raped or stoned.
I am glad the sun and god
have no eyes. It would be
too much to witness.
Beate Sigriddaughter lives and writes in New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment, USA. Her work has received four Pushcart Prize nominations and won four poetry awards. She blogs here
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