No longer can I turn my face away
Nor close my ears to the howls of the lost souls
Clawing their way out of hell.
I hear them in my dreams
So many who found no forgiveness
Nor the mysteries of those who wake in the night
Speaking in tongues.
No longer can I hide
As I walk through the green hills
The mist never so thick as today.
Watching the clouds roll across the midday sky
I wonder about the mean things hidden from my mind.
My day rolls on
I sit on an old fallen tree stump
Contemplating where I should go
What direction should I take?
I sit a while longer
Wishing I had brought my smokes with me
I promised mum I would give them up
As I could no longer bear the mean stare of passers-by
Whenever I light one up
They make me feel like a leper
Unclean, unwanted. Like so many others,
Whose habits have been judged unbecoming by others.
My walk home was slow
My mind filled with thoughts.
Who am I, if I cannot help others, nor learn to pray?
Not sure that praying works
I would be better off looking for the yellow brick road
To find the wisdom I have lost…