Now
My belly empty
Like
the dry cracked grounds of a drought
Vultures hover over me
Nobody about
Youths threw bricks at my eyes
Now raindrops
Creep like
t
e
a
r
s
So here I stand for years
Waiting to be taken
Awaiting my belly to be filled again
I may seem forgotten
The door of my heart is still open
I can still feel the echoes of praise
Because unlike those
I’m not backslidden
©
Miss Marcia Calame, (Oct) 2006
(all rights reserved)
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