tired of the sound of my voice
in these mostly empty rooms and
tired of the silence that follows
tired of this woman who
calls me a monster
who stands in the cold april rain
outside my house
with the bones of her dead children
piled at her feet
blames me for
what's gone wrong in her life
and i'm sorry for the pain of others
but i feel no guilt
i believe in jesus christ
but not his miracles
listen
we kill what we fear
we force our convictions down
the throats of those we hate
do you believe in democracy?
did you spend the
second world war in a cage in
california because of the
color of your skin?
all your leaders have ever
wanted to protect themselves from
is you
all the priests have ever wanted
are your children
and were you taught that
murder is wrong?
do you understand why
andrea yates is still alive?
and when i finally open my door
the woman is gone
but there is a
young boy lying in the street
there is the car that hit him
and the man who drove it
the sound of
an ambulance approaching
this thought that
none of us are ever really saved