A Bruised Sphere Here

Happy not alone in life
I wade into the world.
Where frozen in fear we
restrained won’t unfurl.

The air bites as I move
but forward I a coward
steadily go I to see buds
of love as if some flower.

Yet this twisting globe
turns to a hemisphere ill
where the innocent have
their voices soft killed.

So alone I’ve retreated
to the pastures of calm
where I feel at peace I feel
an easing pleasing balm.

Freedom I cry for sisters
and brothers of flesh new
to the abuse my friends my
sky as yours is bruised.

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