A place for prayer.
A Poem
Published on September 8, 2007 By Hazel Target In Poetry
When mascara runs from your cheeks
like mud from filthy streets
and your hair holds its shape
like a plastic mold

when your knees buckle beneath
the weight of integrity
and prone you wait
unfeeling, unthinking

when your eyes darken
distorted by pain
and grief sets
your tongue aflame

Trust me
to see your beauty

on Sep 08, 2007
Trust me