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Crayon On Concrete; Collected Poetry: 1987-1993
Stephen Huff's Collected Poetry: 1992
Chapter 6 Page 8
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Stephen Huff's
FLIES UPON A WINDOW SILL
05/92


Each to our own we must be true,
deny all lifelines to crystal blue
still water like shining steel,
we must not think, do not feel.
What is wrong with my bastard eyes?
Cannot see life for the death and lies,
long, deep rivers will keep me well--
through sandy deserts and fiery hells.
We must not surrender to whims of fate
must not give in to the lures of hate
and build for our children something new,
each to our own we must be true.
Each on our own we must depend,
divide darkness where dreams begin,
time the course of the lightning sky,
admit defeat and we surely die.
What is wrong with my unfeeling fingers?
I discern cracks where the night's light lingers
and make of the faults what I will,
count them like flies upon a window sill.
We must not forget what has made us whole
cannot forsake the things we know
and build for our children some bright end,
each on our own we must depend.
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