POEM: Prayer of a Broken Drum
Forgive me, Lord, this broken drum speaks In a unworthy voice — now true, now untrue. Sift truth from the lies if truth there is, Else spill me in the dust. My quest is the quest of a one-eyed man Whose vision oft deceives him; He depends on his poor eye not because he trusts it, But because people who offered to lead and show him the way Did not earn his trust. Dimly-remembered voices from a past So distant that it is doubtful Whether it existed at all Echo in my skull Half-voices, half-noises… Disturbances in a cave of unknown depth. With the tips of my mind I seek out the cracks Between wakefulness and sleep Where I hear these voices loudest, And glimpse faces that I recognize – Faces not of those living Nor of the dead I know. Fleetingly with forceful gestures they speak. Seeking to grasp their words, I awaken Only to find my awakening empty Bereft of the meaning of what I saw and heard. Something I knew and trusted was lost And so I grope a...