FOR FAYTH

Incarceration is a curse,
A sentence set for life;
Resolved for better or for worse
When I became his wife.

At any

It is not right
To blame, to criticize and fight
Because one is different from you
Do not keep one down
And show

Mean-spirited fools

With their veins bulging
and with reddened faces
their corded necks
strain against all reason
oppressors

Oppression
In love

Breaks the
Strings and
Bridges
Of the heart

That play
Out 
Natural affections

As smooth
Flowing
Rivers

Uniting

A Sinner’s Born Every Second

On the floor lie the beads

From her rosary

She brings a hand to her neck to feel where