After the Farm

Stirring me stirring me stirring me

The things that lie sleeping inside,

Skeletons rise and soulful searching

Awaken to things once denied.

Original God, original me

I wonder where lies the connection?

So many born on the face of the earth

Looking for honest direction

We lie in our beds

With tears on our cheeks

Streaking our pillows and souls,

Fragmented fractional partial and split

So many halves, looking for wholes.


(Written in the 1980s)