29 November 2014


The orchestra plays
The choir softly chants
Benedictus qui venit

Ni nomine venit

I sit at the edge of my bed
My soft well padded bed
Swaying my mind, nodding
To the choir’s soft chants

Lonely I sit there,
As I have; daily
Since my parents died
I have no friends,
I have no parents

I process the pain inside,
Softly nursing my inner sores
I tell myself jokes
I chuckle at them,
Tell myself how funny I am.
At times I scorn myself,
For  not being able to do it; to overcome it,
To grow up.

Joy, roy, mackoy,
We laugh, we chat, we coil
I walk with them, everywhere
They are omnipresent,
Immortal, invisible,
My little gods
They are all I have.

My parents were stolen
My only friends taken
Now I have no parents,
I have no friends.



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