Poetry

If you must go
empty-handed, the sacred
hymn will always follow you.

Poems had
entered into you. Enough,
you said. You were overwhelmed.

I will wear the cloak―
you had left behind to,
read your beautiful, mind.

Will not give up to find
out your lost footprints. Criminality
on its own would be erased.

Pain was universal.
Coming and going will continue.
Curtains will not come down.