by Christopher Reilley

Created on: July 16, 2008

The place that cradled me is burning.
The red wash of light joins smoke in my eye,
Trails of tears crawling my skin,
As the hopes I had hoped
Die painfully
Slowly,
Permanently.

Lost in the din
Is a voice
A small voice
Crying with a throat rubbed raw.
Family members called Justice
Loyalty and Honor
Bubble like marshmallows amongst the coals.

What was is no more
What will be can never be born
Where once I was proud
A shining light for the globe to follow
I now slink through the purse
Of the world
Looking to steal what I can.

You know who I am
Is not who I was.
What will become of me?

My neighbors will have to succor my children.
Charity used to be mine to give
Not take.

I am ashamed.

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