|Home: Poetry: Ivy McKnight: Drawback|
The crying in darkness draws me to a sunken man,
his quiet eyes piercing the flesh of a shadowed land.
His mind plays in peace with a weakening world,
the pitiful lives pass him by,
timing in turn to stare him right back,
to a heart that never lies.
Mournful in death of a born-again land,
creation has turned his flame,
he is god,
he is death,
the devil in waiting,
he has changed.