Faye Sizemore

SPECTER IN GOTHIC

Should grief be borne
in silence alone…
and nothing of it shown?

War is echoing on my ear
yesterday… and today…
and in the future… ever near

Grief is a black armband upon my sleeve
I have cut off my hair…
and donned my black clothes

In this way I can grieve
I have painted my face a stark white
… and a blood red teardrop shows

Behold this sight…
in an instant… defying all logic…
my world has become Gothic