Member Poem

We hear of things,
On occasion,
Terrible,
Unusual,
Different.
 
But I say,
Forget them,
It is what I see every day that worries me.
 
That when there are others who could do,
What I do,
They aren’t,
Allowed.
 
That we desperately cling onto,
Things we don’t,
Want,
Or need.
 
That we want to fill our days,
Without regard,
For time,
Itself.
 
My heart wants to return to my youth,
 
When I knew,
Little,
And lived,
In bliss.