August 1, 2011


Life’s a flattened Good Year tire.
It's a Jewish woman restrained by wire.

It's a black man hanged up high –
a silhouette against the sky.

It's the passion of a love that burned
although that love was not returned.

It's addiction to escapes.
It's a box of old keepsakes.

A mother's star.
Her son's at war.

Life is a scar.

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I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
- Lord Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam