Surfaces 4

God doesn't listen to the whining of common Man or anything for that matter, though she whined incessantly, her whining was the closest thing she had to prayer, and oh how she could pray. Convulsing, she could pour the desperation of being alone into an empty sink and fill it whole. This wasn't loneliness alone, and though she blamed everything on her isolation from Man, there was the small problem of being sick. A cancer survivor at the ripe age of 33, her body had failed her, companionship being the cost of ten years of sickness, her parents no longer breathing, she found herself alone at an age which proved even more difficult to conquer. Not in her twenties anymore, she didn't have the luxury of proximity to youth as an excuse. The poetry books she read all a minor reflection of life being lived, something she couldn't fathom.

I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a 
   single word: Home.

 Mahmoud Darwish

Nothing exists as a block
and cannot be parceled up.
So if nothing's ventured
it's not just talk

Kay Ryan 

I love you, I said. 
That's very nice, he said 
I like to be loved, 
that makes me happy. 
Have you cut off your hands yet?

Marge Piercy

      I release the earth and I imprison the skies.  I fall down in order to stay faithful to 
the light, in order to make the world ambiguous, fascinating, changeable, dangerous, in 
order to announce the steps beyond.
     The blood of the gods is still fresh on my clothes.  A seagull's scream echoes 
through my pages.  Let me just pack up my words and leave.

Adonis