Sunday, October 08, 2006


it is nothing

but a burgeoning doubting

in my mind

but a question asked

in secret into

familiar valleys of a

drowned and comfortless pillow

but a tirade of rage

and bitter finger-pointing

to myself and no one,

almost no one, else

but an itch

i have scratched

too many times over

until a wound has formed

until an infection has spread across

the sinews and threads

of the suffocating why

that is my Calvary


only the silence

of feigned ignorance

and duty-bound forgiveness

can make it right.

only my silence.

it is nothing.