«In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?»
–William Blake, The Tyger

Awakened from her slumber
she knew something had gone–
a drowsy innocence,
a complacent naitivity…
suddenly, in rude simplicity,
gone.

Shut against the world,
thousands of deaths evade her eyes;
their blood her own
spilled by her own–
an indifference.

Their blood her own,
in thousands (neither more nor less)
suddenly, in rude simplicity,
gone–

And now,
some how,
a difference.

Um poema de Julie Craig

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