Out From The Sands Poem by Romella Kitchens

Out From The Sands



If I come out of the darkness of history
and have no epistilogy considering light
where am I in travel considering?

I open my palms in a world pregnant with
self and come up empty in a desert of humanity's
disconcern wandering.
I am the thousands.
I am the millions.
I am silent only due to despotism.

The world will not be as it should until
the thousands, the millions, even the one
walk as they walk and go where they should
go unhampered, without gathering of derision,
but bundles of compassion.

Then, the sands of evil will shift, and heavy clay of
death mound to itself and the city of justice will evolve

beyond all imperpituity.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: people
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Gajanan Mishra 08 April 2014

pregnant with self, I like it, thanks.

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Romella Kitchens

Romella Kitchens

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
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