Grace. sparse thoughts that think of little else but the closeted and cloaked self need reaping my tired heart lies half-dead and weeping ignorance overshadowed and impaled by new knowledge and feels ruthlessly betrayed. i would like to hold the hands-- whisper soft and hug tight shame the blue sky with my screams that injustice breathes without a fight and dangle on the words of those who knew who keep it harbored fugitive secrets twisting their way into every thought and meager utterance that can pass these lips furrowed brows upon amazed face humanity that has no grace killing its own for a better place. -hb 10/28/00 1:02 p.m. back home