I walk off a bus homebound.
The western draft blows to meet the east
Through where my heart should beat.
Hot water drums on a weary body,
Echoing in my ears and in the empty.
With forgotten lyrics on the lips
I hum with my befriended silence.
I look at my hands, fledged well-bred,
The same hands from which I've freed
Many that mattered. Afar,
I hear a little voice, giving a prayer.
Keep not your dreams the way you do memories.
Dismiss not the shriek of a girl there once was.
Ignore not the question,
A noise of disturbance, yet of salvation.