Thursday, 16 April 1998

why do you not seek me out?


I know that you are lonely
like me you feel alone
and we are not the only ones
from whom the "life" as flown

but really you revel in it
(or you and I would meet)
for something stops you wanting love
(so why then do you bleat?)

I'm alone, and cry for help
for just a quiet friend
who'll care not "what" i am or "who"
and seeks no other end

a quiet friend to share some words
a true and honest test
of what lies at the heart of you
and what in me is best

cry out to me I beg of you
cry out and call my name
cry out to me when you're in need
cry out when you're aflame

but no, I think we'll never meet
we'll never share some time
we'll never find a common ground
and it seems to me a crime

for I will sit and click and hope
that mail to me has come
from someone who has thoughts of me
oh God let there be some

Oh God let there be some

Monday, 13 April 1998

Let he who is without sin

They have come. They came in quiet groups, some alone, others with their children. Sitting here on the hard ground, numb from my night in the cold, numb from all the months of turmoil and pain, i thought at first that they had tied me here to spend the night in contemplation of my sin - but now i see their eyes i know that it was not so. They, it seems, are the ones about to die. There is pain in every face. Even the children seem to understand. I feel a cold tear form and role down my face as my gaze meets the eyes of the ones i have hurt. I look for hatred and maybe it is there but i see only pain.

The first man stoops and picks up a stone. I watch, it seems so slow, so very slow and otherworldly and i feel the weight of the rock in his hand. I feel the effort as he throws back his arm in preparation. He throws and turns his head for it is clear that he does not want to behold the result of his throw. The rock passes by my ear and clatters to the rocks behind but though i hear every sound i heed it not for now i watch as all stoop and reach for their stone. I see their lips move. A silent litany that i join.

The rocks are flying now and i feel the first stab of pain though it seems more like a caress. I watch in fascination as they let fly their blessings, none it seems will look where their stone might land though i reach out to them to tell them not to worry, that i feel only relief.

My mind is slipping away now for i have taken many wounds and death is near. I watch he who i have most harmed stoop and carefully choose a stone. His eyes are full of tears but resolute as he takes careful aim and hurls. And now i can rest.