Monday, September 28, 1998

Eishet Chayil

smashing dreams to dust
lost to life, like blood down the drain
ashes of unending moments cast in many forms
shadows upon the wind everblowing
into the face of the strange woman-child alone
exploited, rejected, abandoned, left to die
time after time, form after form
yet living to tell it, the neverending story of abuse
where eternal cruelty collapses trust
left like trash upon the heap
never again reverberating hollowly
in the valley of reality

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