Violent harangues of hunger pangs,
Solemnly supressed by invoking hands.
Tired, listless, lethargic limbs,
Silently cleanse the soul from sins.
Is There Not A Corner For Us To Meet?
He does not talk to me, but relies on the news,
He sees men murder man and wants me to lose
all my rights, my beliefs, my faith, my blood,
He names me a disgrace, he calls my religion mud.
She does not engage me in long-held conversation,
about my views of the news or sexual orientation,
my hopes, my dreams, of equality, of peace,
She demands my worship stop or my heart cease,
