Weep, O angels,

Weep for those trapped
crying for salvation

In the City of Brass,

Sun glinting off
oppressive street corners

Light refracting off
broken souls,

those yearning,              yearning

boys and girls staring in mirrors
with wrong reflections, yearning

people wishing they could be
people who love people
                  want to be called

people,                          yearning
relief of their internment

In the City of Brass,

Gleaming spires
protruding from tower tops
spears of God piercing the sky,

Pikes on which
the head of every human
rests one day, when lives
come to abrupt
              terrible ends

In the City of Brass.

< Unseen