The tick that carries spotted fever
malaria that mosquitos pass
on to mere kids, and then the cancer
that twists, subverts, deforms normal cells–
who can ever say this world is good?
The mind that in an empty room hears
loud voices saying run, hurt, be bad
not good, rape, kill, then die yourself. Fears
are all around. There is no hope left.
We can be as deformed as our world.
Can someone befriend us when bereft?
Join us with our demons in the cold?
Maybe not help us to understand
evil all around, but hold our hand?
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, June 7, 2012