Grindstone Of Wounds
Who could never toil over the purposes
under the rustling echo of a drumming soul;
Taunt within their silent web of illusivity?
Rumored to have taken labored flight;
From the native harbors of spirituality;
Imagining beyond the logics of mankind;
Throughout the naevus grindstone of wounds;
Where the towery truth soars with wild wings;
Dirty with the narrowed beliefs of earthen history…
Poetry by: Victoria L. McColley 2011