THE CREVASSE


She walks a line of fiction and dreams
Never touching the world
She has left it far behind in its cruel intent
Running through night and day

Music plays loud in her head
As silent thoughts fall on deaf ears
If she cries out
Who is there to listen

The room closed, as is her mind
Nothing, she touches nothing for fear of pain
A soft word passes through her lips
There is no one to hear

Many have tried to reach her
But she climbs deeper into the crevasse that has become her heart
She prays for angels to come
Still she remains alone

Michael V Hechtman Copyright 2000