May 8, 2009
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The woman wearing white wobbles
She’s looking for a sign
The hope of kindness amongst us
It’s difficult

As she walks down the abandoned path,
Her feet become filthy
From the rubble of torment and destruction we left
Her feet weep blood

She begins to sob from the pain
Her hair is dry and ratted from the heat of the tainted air
It begs for moisture
It screams of thirst

She is an old, haggard, abused woman
As her bloody feet dry from the heat
Of the sharded gravel,
So does she

Her existence dissolves to whispy sand
She fades into the ground and blends
As if she was never there
She’s gone

The wind elevates and disperses her through the air
And as we walk doing our selfish bidding,
I can hear the wind sigh
“I’m still here”

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