Page 8 - Contrast1976Decemberv20n1

Shattered pieces /
of my stained glass world
lie in bright profusion i '\
on the ground.
The perpetraitors / .> \
of this destruction
call me now I .•••
to come to them. I,..~'.
I move reluctantly
through the sparkling fragments
to join in their reality.

My footprints are etched in blood.

--Ann Hackman

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