No Traces of Hope Where the Soul Should Be
Gary Marvin Davison
Into the
world
she comes
he comes
crying
squirming
squalling
balling
demanding
that we hear
her
his
decree.
So full of
hope
growing
flowing
knowing
she will
he will
become
everything
she knows
he knows
she
he
can be.
Radiating the
joy of
examination
exploration
fascination
with a world
that is
hers
his
to discover
uncover
travel
unravel
to see.
Smiles
fits of laughter
rise to the
rafters
making music
for
her universe
his world
at one
and two
and
at three.
So the
journey
will continue
at every
venue
at six
seven
and if
she’s lucky
he’s lucky
to
eleven
before the
prospect
of heaven
becomes not
her
his
but hell’s
decree.
Ain’t
happenin’ at home
even worse
at school
the street
the beat
are replete
with
adventure
but end
with
indenture
to those who
had seemed
so alive
so vital
so free.
Streets full
of gold
soon become
cold
the sun of youth
never risen
they’re off
to prison
behind bars
or
in bodies
with empty places
holding no
traces
of hope
where the
soul
should be.
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