The ghosts of failures past make tears   flow down
They run inside the wrinkles of the skin
The faces of the old and savaged ones.

The child teased for her foreign accent frowns.
Does she have the strength of mind within?
The ghost of failure now makes tears   flow down

We thought the old were wiser, never conned.
Yet we ourselves have thinner skin.
Our faces old and ravaged, tortured ones.

For the poor in money, loss abounds
They  blame themselves, they did not  ever win
The ghost of failure past makes tears   flow down

The poor in spirit to their Lord will run
Is this world of terror caused by sin?
Their   sorry faces traumatised, undone

The crucifix will be uncrossed again.
The holocaust in nuclear fires may come
The  salt of failure’s cost make tears  run on
The faces of the living, savaged ones.

To  the prospect of her husband’s death, resigned
Sad and anxious were her feelings at the news.
When he was cured, her heart was pleased yet pained.

Anger with  him sent her half insane
A paradox since she was not to lose.
To  the prospect of  his death,  she’d been resigned

Illogical, she felt he was to blame.
Reality  was hard and lonely  from her view
When he was cured,  the doctors she disdained

The doctors did not understand what’s plain-
That changing all our notions  makes us blue
To  the knowledge of  his death,  she’d been resigned

When bad news turns to good we ‘re redesigned
Our  inner  symbols slowly are made new
When he was healed, her cup filled up with pain.

What poetry  survives a civil muse?
What  love  such healing can, surprised, endure
To  the prospect of her husband’s  loss resigned
By his cure, her art was countersigned.

Alex