Elliot
Canto XXI
Floating
Not falling
As shadows
Are calling
For pain and for sorrow
For inside we’re hollow
A nail in a coffin
That’s made to get off in
A sweet and short death
By the hands of an angel
Too pure to be living
Too dead to be dying
Too silent to be crying
A squeeze on my hand
Puts me right back in place
Mysterious stranger
Mysterious face
The shadows are trying
To tear us apart
Limb from limb
Part by part
Filling in cracks
That are torn on our skin
Flowing inside
To the soul of our Sin
Undoing the lock
To release what is hidden
Making us see
What we deem as forbidden
A Life in Poems 