In This Webb
In Children memories fluttering outside the glass is blood
by Leila L. Dechochran
by beating weapons. Life can hurt, questioning what we want to be.
Put forbidden swirling as we grasp at what we could be.
When darkness falls, night sky is blustering I fear, for my dreams
Tears nibble from the cheeks, I watch thinking the moon is a fossil
Protection of halloed angels run like curved wings, for a cutting two
edged sword, left me to the sound of the wind.
In the midst of rock sand elongated sweeping brushed in sharp thorny
desert, linked by colors in this abandoned forest.
Animals echoes live in the night, for love has not come through to
needing more time. I have survived enchanted by unyielding holding to restless wondering
when you will come. I am the living proof of such loneliness, let it not
hold denial, that can be delivered by one will. This touching sorrow awakens insults in this web darkened halls
is listening hell, where children lay dead, O my soul, talk and cry.
I have been rebelling the tone of anger piling under the weathered
desires in my dreams
So I ask let the sincerity alone be my master, as my confession be
my petition, not to fear for my dreams. Sweet communion for weary soul
assurance embrace another day hope to remove the cruel tomorrow is another
day. In times distress, one needs wisdom worthy to hold for dreams to come
To hold capture.