The Moment Of Change Is The Only

We Have Lived With Violence Far Too Long.

When The Landscape Buckles And Jerks Around, When A Dust Column Of Debris Rises From The Collapse Of A Block Of Buildings On Bodies That Could Have Been Your Own, When The Staves Of History Fall Awry And The Barrel Of Time Bursts Apart, Some Turn To Prayer, Some To Poetry: Words In The Memory, A Stained Book Carried Close To The Body, The Notebook Scribbled By Hand--a Center Of Gravity.

These Scars Bear Witness But Whether To Repair Or To Destruction I No Longer Know.

... This World Gives No Room To Be What We Dreamt Of Being

Every Poem Breaks A Silence That Had To Be Overcome.