A Well of Rain Clouds

Guest Poems > Kenny Parker

I've watched history
injure you.
I felt nothing but pain
Having slept in blood-stained
fields
I was not through
lamenting.
Imagine death and
the captive,
a strangled sky, bullies. And
look eastward: what is
authentic
is there, isn't it, the vast
lion of the first dawn
perched above principal
waters,
outside our feeling or
range
or the well-received hand.