Traces of faces staring while on my calloused knees
Praying to release me from their dark ceremonies.
The Brothers slamming doors driving it back into my ears.
Overwhelming my head causing these streams of tears
Crawling up the wall slipping on the children’s tears soaked moss…
Finally falling feeling failure and another loss.
I gave away my possession’s as I was being pulled back
Keeping moldy bread that I found and water in a sack.
The ten foot doors were closed and locked.
My efforts were answered with a rock to knock.
A brown hooded robe came with dark sunken eyes.
My mind remembering all the pain, hate and lies
I was a baby left with the Brothers years before.
My nightmare’s were started behind their locked doors.
Walking through the door wishing the keystone would drop.
Remembering at eight working the fields tending the crops.
© 2015 Michael Yost 01/10