By William Richardson
Date: 22 October 1997

Strength

I thought I had control until I heard your voice
It was a bad connection crossing distances
Now I write in the book you gave me; where's the soul?
Words turn to fear; restrained, unable to express
     thoughts that consume me
Formerly free, I am weak from contemplation
Intoxication embraces me with a shot
Bitter words (your name) softly utter my dry lips
Anger swells, receeds and swells anew, like the tide
Each stumbling step is pain, distances hurt greatly
Listen to the silent night under the awning
You are not alone anymore: I am, again