I speak over vowels and consonants
they give voice to the words burning my consciousness
discerning responsiveness, seeking the truth
ignoring compliments, beholding the obvious
that strangers, not odd to us
pass coldly in constantness
And whose thought is this
to be sleeping in peace
and waking in confidence?
traveling far from weeping in grief
and shaking in obstinance
this is not unrealized resistance
but the product of keeping belief
and unbroken insistence
this is imperfect
this is existence
this is time (you), this is space (me),
between us is distance
a casualty of life's determined indifference
