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