flows, her hair
straight, dazed, staring ahead
broken, she is-
hoping you will open the door
and enfold her with the warmth you can disclose
the light, the light, trickling down, through the hole
wishing for the rinsing rays to cleanse the hurts
disinfect the wounded flesh

take hold of her hand
reaching out
incase her with your capable breath
collect her in to recharge her strength

white light, curving out stolen realms within the night
white night, white night, this is
as she's locked fixed on a single dot
blurred eyes staring blind through the dark
into
into
your far light







I was listenning to Tori Amos as I ran into this drawing
which inspired me:
http://stage.co.il/Stories/198527