“In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?”
--William Blake, “The Tyger”

Awakened from her slumber
she knew something had gone--
a drowsy innocence,
a complacent naitivity...
suddenly, in rude simplicity,
gone.

Shut against the world,
thousands of deaths evade her eyes;
their blood her own
spilled by her own--
an indifference.

Their blood her own,
in thousands (neither more nor less)
suddenly, in rude simplicity,
gone--

And now,
some how,
a difference.

©2001, Julie Craig
22/09/01

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