we are without pages,
pens dropping from our hands
stars rise on our poverty
the moon sheds light on our infirmities
the sun sets over villages
of street children, the toothless
smiles of their mothers
our hopes fall like snow
drifting in the global heat
of melted glaciers one can hear
the laughter of the powerful
as limousines bear them away
a celebration of those
who have been bought
while we of the clipped tongues
and cropped wings join the wind
to disappear like dried leaves
or the incomparable babble of the rich
the face of hope lies hidden
in the shadows her dark eyes
fearful, her mouth open wide
wordless