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