I ponder on life,
but, more on death,
because, I was murdered, you see.
Slaughtered by hatred, intolerance
and … me.

So I created a lake
to bleed my fears,
to puddle my years,
to siphon off my need
to be innocent, again.

Pitter-patter, sprinkler drops splatter
on my surface,
and my depths.

Each tiny drop creates
effects, ringed
and ringing.

The sunflower-seed loving finches
are enjoying their bath,
because they are innocent.

I want to weep sprinkler’s shower,
but I can’t,
but, I can.

I do and I don’t,
I feel hollowed,
worm-ridden, terrorized
by my duplicity,
in being human.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 6/30/04