here in states of disarray

and multiple retreats

lay love upon a yielded hope

in solitary beats,

where pounding flow lay nigh on life

but never quite released

and joy in shrouded quaker form

shrunk near when it released,

from ragged days to quickened nights

and all that went away

emerge in frightened, tremored lies

small beaten girl to stay,

on endless pond of flooded wood

in fear of life and breath

still standing now with shaking hand

stretched out from dreams of death..