.
In still morning light,
There is new beginning,
Early birds so joyous,
On wings into the sky,
How the sun is painting
A paradise for my eyes.

I will wake into dream,
On this day so spectral,
I will sing with the breeze
And interpret the songs
Of birds in trees a flame,
Sailing into heavens' dawn.

I have written this letter of my impending death
Of my own will, my delusion, in my last breath
A spear breaches the armor, pain penetrates the soul
I bear this wound in horror and march on through the snow

Oh, that I were home with you
Blessed to be of the surviving few
To live the dream of freedom’s bliss
To escape the ink of death’s list

There the young shall fear no more
The old shall rest with unlocked doors
There I shall play guitar and sing
And through the walls our laughter rings

Friends and neighbors shall smile and wave
There upon fresh linens we shall lay
To sleep the dark and rejoice the dawn
There the ties to life hold strong

Yet these tides have turned against the meek
My burning eyes grow tired and weak
I fear the cold has come to stay
And the blinding night has replaced the day
I attempt to hide in my pretense
But the storm is nigh, the fog grows dense
Redeemer of these fallen stars
The sky grows darker where you are
By these sands of time running low
I’m not so far from letting go

An enemy dances at our gates
Internal bigotry, fear and hate
Our children die in foreign wars
And here we ask "what was it for?”
Until at last we are no more

there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.

the hardest
part of
letting someone
you love
go is
making yourself
stay away