Poems from Wesley Sanders
Windows up, as all airs out;
Can't close the trap, for broken valves.
But go ahead, press the cap.
It breaks the line, like marching south...
Rose from a grave, wrapped in sheets;
White, like from days of summer’s heat.
Burnt through the soul, as you can tell.
Rising up, I turn...
If I could but sing, I'd take
From your complexion
Of the Phoenix, time's progression
And add to your spirit its resurrection,
If I could...
I dont know if I ever woke
From my grave to life more trying.
A lifted dread to speak, it spoke:
"Why does healing feel like dying?"