Tragedy upon tragedy piles up around me.
Giant questions squelch pointless tears.
For centuries ashes of cruelty pollute the thinning air.
When was it otherwise? Why is it so?

Nameless frustrations rise in my blood.
My tongue tastes bitter to the bone.
Holy Something shrouded in masks
like my own, like my own, like my own.

Where does humanity now reside?
Lethargy dwells where passion once was,
or what I thought at the time.

Skepticism chokes our spirits,
betraying the natural life force.
Defeated like gum on the pavement,
how did we get so off course?

Is there an angel, a cat or a friend
who will pull me back off the ledge?
Is there a cause to consume me
without drowning me deeper in sludge?
If there's an answer,
a path, a direction, a plan, a course, a song?
Holy Something please, please, please
just give me a little nudge or a bonk.
Or fill my bowl with an element
essential to nourish me whole,
so I can release these toxins and
claim new essence for my soul.

Tragedy upon tragedy piles up around us...
Is there an angel, a cat or a friend
who will pull us back off the ledge?
Is there a cause to consume us
without drowning us deeper in sludge?
Is there something, just give us something,
an offering in our bowl.
Give us each the ability
to preserve our collective soul.
                                --Rhea Giffin ©2001
               Comments on a Lost Society Series

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