One of my poems

Feb 02, 2008 - 16:45 PM PST

A PLATFORM ONE MORNING

Monotony suited hangs over
People in their cages eyes closed
newspaper sheilds rustling
Today rain flows batters the roof and evokes warmth
a safe and intimate tent
shelter from a storm

There is a man scarred by life
it has probably thrown glass that embedded
and wouldn't leave.
He is bravado, joking and singing
but I do not feel joy.

There is a beating statue.
He is sitting alone.
His eyes are focused but dreaming
intensity in white
His hands shake in rhythm
Golden light peace comes fear

enters me green sick poison
is this his last prayer?
something dies in me and cries

His golden thread beats
to the unknown
to the giver of all goodness
while we flounder in our cages
sighing.