One Year Later

It’s cold for May. We got some rain,
but not enough to cut the drought.
It was a year ago today.

I dreamed about a shattered chain.
I dreamed about a breathless mouth.
I felt my hands as cold as clay.

We ask for hope. We ask for change.
We shake the street with silent shouts.
It was a year ago today.

The pavement doesn’t show a stain.
The street forgets the gathered crowd
but passers-by still stop to pray.

The moment’s gone. The work remains.
The tug-of-war of faith and doubt.
All I know is, it’s cold for May.

Books Available
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside