Clouded in darkness

I walk surrounded by shadows

Strangers glide by,

Linger in the dusky lamplight

So many swarming,

Everyone not my father.

Alone, I sit for hours on a church pew

Trying to rest his soul and mine

Weeping amongst a world full of shadows

Cold, as the days grow older,

I feel more disgust.

I see nothing godly here, I see no life.

Counting the days when this wretchedness will cease

I stay in hope for that beloved light

To shine on me once more.

But for now,

Every second thought is my father

Every third thought my grave.

Natasha Haidar © 2005