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Heaven Help Me Dusk frowns upon my weary head, And the moon lays down judgment. Stars gossip from the jury pool At the strange husk of a figure Alone on a dais of dirt below. I cannot resonate with the open-air court, And the last of my voice was squandered In futile efforts to call out to a figure Who had deafened themselves to me. I am ashamed of my ineffectiveness. The sun will look at me oddly, For this sunflower turns her head not to it, But rotates toward the solemn calls and pleas That bid me rip up my own roots And feed myself to the starving. For now, I close my eyes and dissolve, Body surrendered to the moss and sky. Time will turn the key to the waiting prison, Where the next parched soul will appear In need of a sip of compassion. Can the water drip down so far to nourish them? I let it flow freely from my hands. Would something sprout from the cracks, I would find this unholy sentence served. But, my powers are a pale imitation of a god's. Heaven help me, I'm doing what I can. - Heira | |