I am torn to nothing; decimated page of prose, Screwn to tinder, wrapped tight in coils to burn. Life-hope story rolled and knotted to catch the anguish breath, One spark ignites, dry bones split as kindling. I am barren soil falling through your fingers, Empty of life, crumbling through drought to death. Nothing grows in this once fertile land, strewn to famine-war, Oh for one cloud, one rain just one droplet of hope. I am heard anguish-tears. I am held sorrow-weakness. I am