---

Standing by the window,

eyes upon the moon.

Hoping that the memory

will leave her spirit soon.

She shuts the doors and lights

and lays her body on the bed.

Where images and words are running deep.

She has too much pride

to pull the sheets above her head.

So quietly she lays and waits for sleep.

She stares at the ceiling

and tries not to think,

and pictures the chains

she's been trying to link again.

But the feeling is gone!

Water can't cover her memory,

and ashes can't answer her pain.

God give me the power to take

breath from a breeze and call life

from a cold metal frame.

In with the ashes

or up with the smoke from the fire.

With wings up in heaven

or here, lying in bed,

palm of her hand to my head.

Now and forever curled

in my heart and the heart of the world.